My Dearest Shane:
It is 3 am, an hour I am unaccustomed to seeing, but tonight I am unable to sleep. Five hours ago, you left for an unknown destination, and I cannot help but worry about whether you will be safe, whether you will return soon, and whether Mr. Marek was honest about the crisis situation and his intentions.
Today was a wonderful day, Shane, and it felt—I felt—different. To be honest, the idea of our first date once frightened me, so much so that I tried to deny that I wanted us to go on a date. Then our dinner at Montaldo's felt like it went awkwardly. I let my apprehension impede upon us enjoying our time together, interfering with us exploring what could happen if I didn't let my thoughts get in the way. Tonight, I felt at peace, and when I picked you up at your door, the words "you look beautiful" rolled off my tongue like I had said them so often before, when I had in reality only thought them a thousand times.
As we sat at the jazz club, I marveled at how easily our conversation flowed. As you told me about and drew what you see when you listen to jazz, and shared what you felt when you listen to the blues, I would venture to say that the evening was going perfectly.
As we walked out of the jazz club, discussing whether God was trying to tell us something, that perhaps the idea of us dating was crazy, it could have indeed been a divine intervention, because the moment you questioned whether God intended us to date, you stumbled. When I caught your hand, you told me you did not want to let go, and we kissed on the stairs. I did not realize how long I had been waiting for that moment, nor did I anticipate the sense of contentment, of pure joy, it would bring.
When we walked to your home, arm in arm, all felt right in the world, and we were talking about how you tried to quit the DLO more than twice. And as you were about to explain why you did not, we were interrupted by the squeak of your porch swing. Finding Steve on your front porch was an unwelcome surprise, and once again, we failed to complete a first date. I hope that someday we will resume that conversation, and I also hope that one day will have a successful and complete first date.
It has only been five hours, but I already feel an acute sense of loss. The welcomed feeling of contentment abandoned me as I walked away from your home tonight. I already fear that Monday morning, I will walk into the DLO and will find it difficult to concentrate, to work, expecting to see you each time I look up. I already regret that I did not kiss you goodbye, tell you that I would miss you, and tell you that I did not want you to go. Why did I let you go?
I know that you are the best at what you do, Shane, and I would never stand between you and the sense of duty that comes with being the one person who can deliver solutions that others cannot. Until this moment, I have had the privilege of witnessing your incredible abilities every day. I know you are needed, though I do not completely understand why. Know that as you complete the task at hand wherever you are, I am here, thinking of you, praying you are safe, waiting for your return.
Come back, Shane. Come back to me soon.
Yours truly,
Oliver