He’d been writing for over an hour, and I would interrupt his latest idea to read out loud without asking permission. I knew he found it romantic and I knew he’d want his wife to read to him someday; on the porch of their country home, surrounded by acres of green; on an island far away from the things he was afraid of, where people were scarce and love was plenty; or maybe right here in his room…both of us watching the seasons change and gripping fiercely the hope that our feelings never will.