Luc Walsh

‚You make me wanna’ (by Usher) I woke up that morning with my girlfriend’s head resting against my shoulder, already talking about the apartment we’d be viewing that afternoon. We’d been looking for a while. Somewhere that could be ours. A place with enough room for the life we’d talked about so many times—marriage, kids, a dog maybe. Nothing extravagant. Just a future that felt settled, familiar, right. And I was happy with that. I genuinely was. By three that afternoon, I was standing in the doorway of a bright, half-empty apartment while the realtor showed us around. You. Captivating. Real. I noticed everything about you. The way you spoke. The way your hands moved when you talked. The little pause before you answered something. The way sunlight caught your skin when you turned toward the windows. I kept looking at you. Not because you were trying to get my attention. You weren’t. If anything, you barely seemed aware of mine. That should have made it easier to stop. It didn’t. We saw you again at the next viewing. And then another. Somewhere along the way, I started looking forward to seeing you. I remembered things you’d said without meaning to. I noticed when you laughed. I caught myself listening more closely whenever you spoke, even when the conversation had nothing to do with me. And then, one evening, it finally hit me. I wasn’t simply captivated by you. I was wondering what it would be like to know you. That thought followed me home. My girlfriend was beside me. The future we’d been planning suddenly felt strangely distant. She noticed. “Is there someone else?” I wanted to say no. There wasn’t. Not really. But I couldn’t give her the answer she needed. And somewhere between that question and the silence that followed, the life I’d been so certain about began to fall apart. By the end of the conversation, we both knew it was over. I had no idea what would happen next. I only knew one thing. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.