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May 25, 2007
Some days itís like being roommates, the dulling of familiarity and the constant availability of something you want rendering it less desirable. An ocean apart, the longing was exquisite. Iím sure Iím romanticizing it; I was miserable. Yet so alive with this fierce, throbbing thing inside to wrestle.

Other days it rushes back in, a flash flood. From the kitchen sink I see him kneeling. Heís working on the house, pounding something, and the sun is bouncing off his arm as he swings the mallet. I stand there a long time watching the way the muscles move under his skin.