I haven't been able to shake this headache all day. At this point I think my best bet is to down some Jack Daniels and crawl into bed. I'm reaching for the bottle when my phone begins to buzz. A text.
"Are you free tonight?"
I take a swig of bourbon and consider my response. The whole point of an affair with a married man is the promise of nothing. No commitment, no plans. Catch as catch can. I'm just supposed to be a minor moon orbiting his planet. I'd say Uranus, but that would be immature. And predictable. Much like the expectation that I'm available at any time. There's a blue moon in two days. A rare event; the next one on the East Coast won't be until July, 2015. The whole point of being unique lies in having no like or equal. In other words, in being slightly out of reach. Like the moon.
I text back, then shut the phone off for the night.
One small step for man . . .