"You don't believe me."
It's true. It's never been more true.
"Read me, please read me." He's begging.
The grief in his voice crashes into me like the wind has redirected its storm to hit me. I can't read him, I can't! Not now, not ever! I can't do it. In reflex I shake my head, not a single bone in my body trusts myself to read him, yet he is standing here asking me to do it. He's begging me now saying please, and all I can hear is the passion in his voice. He wants me to trust him and I can't. I want to trust him but I don't trust myself. My head is exploding in half. One part terrified of what lies behind his sunglasses and the other desperate, so desperate to know him, to feel what he feels. And I have to make the decision. Now -or I will lose the chance.