It was our little secret.
He was the do-good detective, I was the con-artist he could never quite catch. The lines between reality and play were a constant blur, forever interrupted by moments of passion. We could never quite follow the script. Each time was like playing hide and seek for the first time as a kid, heart pounding, secretly wanting to be found. He once told me his life would be nothing but ‘spreadsheets and empty sacrifices’ without our nights together.
But, he said it wouldn’t last forever, he had what he called his ‘real life’ to attend to. I knew that when it started. It’s just, I couldn’t bear the fact that us, however brief us was, would fade as if it never happened at all.
So when it came to our last stint, I took it. It will mean nothing to you, and I wouldn’t dare explain what it was. But now, whenever he looks to fill the space in his life it once occupied, the memory of me will be there.