The Accomplice She was interesting to talk to, so of course I was interested in her. On the long ride back from the mountains, she sat next to me, looking through the notebook I brought everywhere. She read my ideas, my poems, my mind. I truly enjoyed her company; however, there was one thing that she said that made me too worried to continue. It had nothing to do with me and nothing to do with her, but it gave me every practical reason – or excuse – to turn her away.

A year later, we got back in contact. It was one of those frequent “small world” instances that seem too common for the world to be anything but. By then, the arbitrary time limit I applied to the circumstances had expired, so I made myself available. This time, however, it was her own practical reasoning to turn me away, though it could have just been an excuse.  ¶ 9:41 AM