My Imperfect Man

She insisted on giving her time. I did—cornering myself like a wounded animal. I moaned from chest pain, from helplessness, unable to do anything or influence what was happening, and I waited, occasionally breaking into her life. In those moments I could breathe. Without her I choked; with her I became myself again—alive, real.

Until her freedom slipped out of control.

It was time to change everything…