“Well Ms Farrell as a matter of fact there is,” he replied, and crossed the room to stand in front of my desk. I capped my pen and folded my hands on the desk. “What can I do for you?” I offered, looking up into those intense eyes, suddenly intensely aware of my own heartbeat. “Well you see Ms Farrell,” he began, his slow, wide manner of speech making each word hang in the air like a sweet drop of syrup, “ I have this hypothesis I’ve been kinda working on for a couple weeks now…” “Oh?” “Yeah, well it’s sort of a two part hypothesis.” “Okay, so…” I concentrated on breathing evenly, “why don’t you write it up and bring it to class on Tuesday and we’ll put it up for discussion?” His eyes literally seemed to spark. “Ms Farrell if you have a moment and wouldn’t mind, I would prefer to discuss it with you now.” What the hell, I thought, so I miss part of ER, I’m in no rush. Besides, it had been ages since I’d had a conversation with a man that felt so…charged. I could feel a flush creeping. He’d been a fifth grade teacher but they had already found an alternate teacher for his class. He knew he needed a job with less emotional output daily, and found a job as a librarian in a small library. Some friends didn’t understand the changes happening in him, and they’d drifted apart. Some friends stayed with him. He’d still used a cane the last time he saw Victoria but now he walked without a limp. The sleeping pills kept him asleep until his alarm clock awoke him. He wasn’t ready to meet anyone and ordered room service for breakfast. It was only a crush. He told himself for the tenth times that morning. He’d come this whole way and wanted to open himself up for healing, but could feel his walls going up as the time to meet everyone approached. The day before he left the hospital he’d told her how he felt about her. He had held her hand, rubbed his fingers over the scarred skin of her cheek. That day he’d fancied himself in love with her. His love for her seemed to give him.
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