“Michael put the paper down and leaned across the table toward me, unexpectedly intense. "What do you want?""I already ordered an espresso," I answered, reflexively leaning back."No, I mean what do you want from life?""Good morning to you, too. Isn't it a little early for philosophy?”

“What do you mean?" he said. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

“He exhales, then leans forward, reaching under the table to hold my knee. 'I didn't mean that. I want to be here. You know what I kept thinking about while I was away? When we went for a surf the morning after - how I felt coming up from the beach with you afterwards. I was thinking, 'How good is this?”

“I caught his hand. “What do you want me to do?”Leaning down, he kissed the pulse beating on my neck just above the damaged skin. “Tomorrow, I need you to die.”

“I want to own you," Griffin whispered into Michael's ear. Michael smiled and for the first time in his life knew exactly what to say and how to say it. "You already do.”

“Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”