This story begins with a song. That’s how it almost always begins, does it not? One simple melody that draws someone to you. But often we don’t even know it at the time. Decades separated us. For I was old. The years had worn themselves on my skin, etched in like broken seams. My beard had turned white, and my eyes were all that hadn’t wrinkled on my face. But _her?_ The years had yet to be worn into her skin. So I couldn’t understand how someone as she could listen to music that brought me back to her age. We were at opposing ends of the slide of life. My time wasn’t coming to an immediate end, but it certainly was becoming numbered in years. A decade if I was lucky? I asked myself constantly: Who drew who in first? Was it me? No, I know it was _her_. It was _her_ and _her_ music. She was unlike anyone I’d ever met before. Most women her age were focused on everything current. But _her? _ __ __ She went backwards into a better time. She was transporting us back with these songs, songs we both knew._ _ She knew the titles. The bands. She knew all the lyrics. She sang them carelessly around me, derailing me from any thoughts that didn’t revolve around her. Her voice carried with me in my car, with each song on the radio. I only ever heard her versions. She reminded me of what it felt like to be young again. Truth be told, I never felt that old. Not really. My knees ached sometimes, I had to rest from time to time. I certainly looked my age. Because let’s be honest: Mirrors don’t lie. Yet it doesn’t make sense to me: How was it she looked at me like we were the same age? Perhaps I’ll never know. It wasn’t long before _those feelings _took root inside me. And before you ask, yes. Feelings of a forbidden romance. A love that would be looked down upon. By those around us. By society at large. By _she, _herself. But then there were those _other _feelings. I don’t remember how early it started, but I knew I was different. I was never drawn to women my own age. My adolescence into manhood was spent wanting those I shouldn’t. I thought I’d outgrown it. I married a woman close in my age. But then there was _her. _ __ __ Once a stranger, then a co-worker and confidant. A friend. And then… _A want. _ And the desire became strong. _Burning. _ It was wrong to want her. _And yet I did. _ Her lips were warm, soft and inviting on that first kiss we shared. Only one kiss did we share. The moments our lips parted, I knew. _She _finally saw _me. _ _My inner child._ She saw what I could no longer fight. What lingered inside me. A predator.