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