Gil never came to see you. You always had to go to him, scraping your pennies together for the cheapest ticket you could
find, and even after that it always felt like he was annoyed to collect you at the airport. His apartment would be full of his friends, people you had nothing in common with and were never properly introduced to, and you would sit on his stiff leather couch and sip acrid instant coffee and wonder why he didn’t want to be alone with you. Even before you started changing, it was like that.
RJ Aurand 