Cat's Eye

Jon glowed for me then like a plum in sunlight, richly colored, perfect in form.  I would lie in bed beside him or sit at the kitchen table, running my eyes over him like hands.  My adoration was physical, and wordless.  I would think, Ah, nothing more.  Like a breath breathed out.  Or I would think, like a child, Mine.  Knowing it wasn't true.  Stay that way, I would think.  But he could not.

- Margaret Atwood