Once more he spent a friday night by himself. When he finally decided to go to bed he found it difficult to sleep. Tossing, turning, dozing or just lying awake. His mind over-active. He got up, made a coffee and listened to some music, waiting for real tiredness to overcome him. He wondered what she'd feel if he died. How would she react? He knew what would happen to him if she passed away - part of himself would shrivel up and die.

He needed to lock away his feelings to make it easier for the both of them. His love and desire for her he placed in a box at the back of his mind, closed the lid and locked it. The imaginary key he left hanging nearby, just in case. In case things worked out better.
It wasn't easy though. She turned him on so much. He was burning up inside, on fire. He wanted to hold her, hug her, kiss her. But there was nothing he could do about it. It was all out of reach. He hoped she could understand what he was going through. In a perverse way he needed her to help him through it all. Sure, he was keeping his inner feelings to himself, and she knew it too.

The past few weeks he'd treated work as a diversion - something to keep his mind away from his thoughts. The more he concentrated on his work and the more he applied himself the less time he had to think about what was really happening to him. People at work noticed his change in attitude, but he wouldn't tell anyone. He didn't want them feeling sorry for him, didn't want their sympathy. He didn't actually know what he wanted. Just to be left alone maybe.

So he worked harder than he ever had, concentrating on the 'now.'