It occurs to me that I know you too well. The curve of your face, the exact shade of blue of your eyes. I have watched you for years and felt you in my heart for almost as long. On a few treasured occasions I have felt you in my arms, breathed in the scent of your hair, light, tangy, like an orange grove in spring. Many times I dream of you at night, holding you, loving you, but I can't have you, and I can't change the regulations, so I do the only thing left to me. I go.