Page 105 - Anonymous
P. 105
“I love you, you know that?” He
looks deep into my eyes, wanting me to
understand how sincere his words are.
"I do," I tell him. But it feels
wrong to lie. The truth is, love is a
complicated thing. It isn't black or white.
There are so many shades in between.
He walks over to the counter where
a fresh pot of coffee sits and pours
himself a cup. Cohen isn’t a breakfast
