Romantic Love

the thought of those men. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself, my appetite gone. Something tells me th

room, Ryan is moving around. I hear the sound of water running as he cleans off his plate.

es?" I ask without turni

Than

re we

but I did something to thank my unwilling host. Perhaps, if I cook and do some chores for him, he'll b

have moved here recently and finds himself in over his he

e says, his voic

look out the small window near the

. It's like the rest of the world doesn't exist and you're the only per

uses. "After Afghanistan, there

s not talking about, but I'm in no place to jud

t place for tha

people getting shot and killed. Always being on your guard, alert, prepared. It sounds like

ike the right thing to say. But really, I think I have a much better

direction. "It must get pretty cold here in winter. I imagine that's

. It gets dark early, and the sun rises late. In the middle o

you chop all the wood for it yoursel

ions generator that runs on diesel. Sometimes in the winter there's not enough sunlight, the river freezes, and the wind turbine can't keep up so the generator becomes nece

rning that he's not very good at handling an ax. The reason why he'd

ply, the tension bac

he front yard." Too late I realize that he's pro

ould turn around to look at him, but also preferring not to. The sight

is uneven gait. After a few minutes of silence, I suppose he

e he's reading a book. Interesting. I'd noticed the large, full bookshelf in the living room, but

you've just met if you can live in their one-bedroom house. I'd much rather curl up into a ball under the table and hide ther

ings too. Like clothes, shampoo and conditioner that won't make my hair f

Curling up under the table is beginning to

of safety knows that Ryan lives here. Someone who would notice how unusual it was if a single man living alone in the wilderne

lost me the first time. But somehow, they found me again. Even fewer people knew about my travel plans to Alaska, but clearly they got acces