UNSENT / SCENE
The One Who Got Away
Some people remain perfect because reality never had the opportunity to interfere.
He sent me this photograph once.
He lived too far away. Nothing happened. We never met.
But my God, that body.
Not one particular part of it. The whole thing. The broad back narrowing into that waist. The weight of him resting on bent knees. Those thighs. Those feet. The softness, the shape, the straps tracing lines around a body that scarcely needed decorating.
Even the sunlight understood the assignment.
There are people you sleep with and eventually forget. Then there are people you never touch who somehow remain completely intact in your imagination.
No awkward first meeting. No disappointing conversation. No ordinary morning afterwards. Just this photograph—and a body preserved forever at precisely the moment I wanted it most.
I still dream about him sometimes.