I know as soon as the sun shines through these windows, I have to leave.
I know that soon I’ll be without the caress of her hand, the angles of her body, the sheen of her sweat as she lay across my chest.
There’s things that I won’t miss, of course. Her slightly jagged fingernails, the ugly fuscia lipstick that stains the rims of coffee cups, the wet towel she leaves on the floor after every s...