He sits in front of me, a slight shake to his voice, incessantly twisting a ring around around around his finger baring his soul. I try to focus, but I’m drawn back to the ring, the flickering light across the room, the couple getting intimate on the sofa behind. I want to reach out and hold his hand, as much to calm my own mind as his. I feel his heartbeat like it’s my own. Everything is vivid, alive, threatening but I know it’s fleeting. For in a few hours time, when I’m lying in bed, trying to remember this moment. I won’t be able to. I’ll remember the tattoo on his left hand index finger, the single dimple when he smiled and the flicker of his lip when he recounted something difficult. But as time passes and my head flounders, along with it these crisp clear images will dissolve and I’ll be left back with myself. My mind that never ceases and that sinking feeling in my stomach that I’m going to have to do this over over over again.