“We could've done this anywhere, but I wanted you to see me, to see this," he said, gesturing at the room. "I wanted you to know where I come from, what I am under the choices I make.”

“You want me to come clean, I will. I'll tell you everything. Who I am and what I've done. Every last detail. I'll dig it all up, but you have to ask. You have to want it. You can see who I was, or you can see who I am now. I'm not good," he said, piercing me with eyes that absorbed all light but reflected none, "but I was worse.”

“I want you to make love to me. I want to go to your room, your bed, be under you, feel you inside me, see your eyes, feel your body and know…we're together. I don't know if that's love or just need, but I know I need you. I need that with you. I need what I've never known and I need it from you. Only you. And it may destroy everything or build something. I really don't know. I just know…Please make love to me.”

“Look, I know this is the last thing you want to talk about, but I wanted to ask you . . . .” He trailed off, looking strangely uneasy.“Ask me . . . ?” Ask me to dinner? Ask me out for drinks? Ask me if I wanted to see what he looked like under that uniform? Yow, where’d that last one come from?”

“I want to... go everywhere, see everything. I want to go with you anywhere you'll take me... and I want you to want to take me with you.”

“I'll write this all down for you," I said. "I'll put it in a story." I don't know if that's what he wanted to ask me, but it's something everybody wants--for someone to see the hurt done to them and set it down like it matters.”