As you sit at your writing stand, watching a burial procession through West Street Cemetery across the street, your mind wanders to your walk last afternoon with Ben. You had discreetly tucked a few poems in the back of your notebook, hoping for an opportune moment to share them. You meandered through the garden, pointing out your favorite flowers by name. Ben listened attentively and asked you to repeat some of the longer names. Twice, he seemed on the verge of momentous speech, but as quickly as he opened his lips, he closed them again.

Having found a shaded knoll on which to rest, you summoned the courage to share one brief verse with him. He read the poem, then stared down at the page for several very long minutes, before lifting his eyes to your face. The look on his face made you understand why you had been afraid of losing his friendship, though it only just began—and why you have prolonged your dalliance with Eldridge. Listening to Ben's words, you could no longer deny your ability to break his heart, be it piece by piece or all at once. You felt torn between embracing the first man who could keep your heart safe and your mind racing, and the solid certainty that you are far from ready to treasure such safety.

Turn to page 5.