~ Stephano

Easing back into work after that trip was hell.

Hell with a capital H, the kind of hell you didn’t get out of by mere productivity or by pretending to be indifferent. I kept asking myself the question that stupid, needy women asked, the one I swore I would never let slip into my own mind: What are we?

I hated that question. Hated it because it made my blood thrum in a way that had nothing to do with work, nothing to do with logic. Who is Camilla to me? What was she doing to me? I had no answer. Hell, I didn’t even want to answer....