Dear Ex, See you never
He's seeking me out the way I'm seeking him, both of us curious about this strange creature who shares our cage.
I find him in the library one afternoon, curled up in a window seat with a book of poetry. The light catches the dust motes floating around him, and for a moment he looks almost ethereal, younger, softer, nothing like the wary stranger who confronted me in his room that first night.
"What are you reading?"
He looks up, startled but not displeased, and shows me the cover. Rumi.
"He had someone too," Mike says quietly, his thumb tracing the spine of the book. "Someone the world didn't understand, someone he loved in ways that couldn't be spoken aloud, shams of tabriz.
Bab Populer