I remember he put down the telephone and sat stupidly beside it. "There must be someone else laying beside her..."
Thinking about this, he uncovered a latent jealousy. In fact he had entirely forgotten about her since their last meeting...
His literature made no mention of her to mind, however, it made him realize that he still loved her. He had long known that when he loved any women he was absolutely sincere, starting with the very first one. It was because he had lost the first one that he now kept eternally and unsuccessfully trying to find her. But in the midst of eternal defeat, he also savored the feelings that he had briefly found her on each and every woman's body. Love is not something that is constantly kept in mind...
It's more like occasional sparks tossed out by hammered steel... yea...
He opened the bottle of whiskey wishing that all creation could be steeped in it's transparent amber.
