Love Is Seldom—almost Never—an Even Proposition. Someone

It's Simply Human Nature To Have An Occasional, Fleeting Interest In Someone Whom You Once Loved.

I Wondered Why I Was So Startled By The Encounter When There Was Something That Seemed Utterly Inevitable About The Moment. Not In Any Grand, Destined Sense; Just In The Quiet, Stubborn Way That Unfinished Business Has Of Imposing Its Will On The Unwilling.

This Time, I Whispered That I Loved Him Too. Then, I Silently Listed All The Reason: I Loved Him For His Gentleness. I Loved Him For Being An Amazing Catch Yet Still Vulnerable Enough To Be Insecure. But Most Of All, I Loved Him For Loving Me.

He Nods, As If To Acknowledge That Endings Are Almost Always A Little Sad, Even When There Is Something To Look Forward To On The Other Side.

One More Chnce. Words That My Mother Heard, More Than Once. Words That Women Debate. Whether You Can Forgive And Whether You Should Trust. I Think Of All The Judgment From Society, Friends, And Family, The Overwhelming Consensus Seeming To Be That You Should Not Grant Someone Who Betrayed You A Second Chance. That You Should Do Everything You Can To Keep The Knife Out Of Your Back, And To Protect Your Heart And Pride. Cowards Give Second Chances. Fools Give Second Chances. And I Am No Coward, No Fool.