She saw him from far, he stood tall among men, circumstances, and life in general. He had always done so. The years had chiselled his features, there were no wrinkles, and his body seemed as lean and firm as ever. She looked at him, loving every cell in him, worshipping him from far. She was so pleased to see he was as beautiful as he had been the day she had met him.

She followed him everywhere, unseen and unheard. He never noticed, but then, he had stopped noticing her ages before. He had also left her, with no apparent effort, as easily as discarding worn-out clothes. He had gone on with his life, there were plenty of things he enjoyed doing, he pursued his interests with a passion that few showed in their own lives. She had stayed behind, at some point of his life that seemed to matter less and less to him as time went by and he moved on. She belonged to a time lost in shadows, a time she had cherished, a time where none of them existed any longer, the lands of memory and deliverance.

She followed him everywhere, free to do so at last. He was alone, aloof at times and friendly at others, with that smile that held the warning of a mean streak, cruelty always at fight with his easy-going ways…And yet, he did not lack offers, he never was short of them. Women and also men liked him, loved him, pursued him. They never imagined he loved fiercely for a short time, he lived for the satisfaction of his senses and all sorts of ways of augmenting pleasure. They never foresaw the cold desert in which they would find themselves, once his desire ebbed. And, if some of them got to do so, they had paid no heed. The pleasures he offered were too unique to miss. That had happened to her, and she had paid her price gladly, a good trader to the last minute.

He belonged to those born to be loved, wanted, and cherished while keeping their fierce freedom, those who give their bodies freely while keeping their hearts and souls unmoved. No woman could keep him for long; he loved the pleasure women gave him toó much to settle for just one. There was a hunger for love in him. He did not even know himself, just because it had taken up his whole being, and he took himself for granted, just as he took others and whatever emotion he arose in them. Those who disliked him remembered him as a monster, which in fact he was, and those who still loved him thought of him as a lonely child trying to make up for a loveless childhood, something that neighboured truth somehow.

She had wanted and loved him just as he was. She had known from the very first time she set eyes on him that he craved pleasure. He was a sensation seeker and no more, and yet she had joined him in his search that respected no boundaries.

The only thing she had not expected was the blow of his detachment, the blow that left her reeling, unable to react to anything or anyone.

Still, life had gone on, or so it seemed. Collecting herself, she went on following him. She saw him leave his house, enter a supermarket, do his shopping and come back. She saw him enter his house laden with bags. She yearned to help him, but she could not. She kept at a distance, just content to watch him, enjoying the precision of his movements when chopping vegetables, uncorking a bottle of wine, doing all simple things well...That was him, he had always done things well. She had been the sloppy one, and he had always been perfect in her mind.

She kept looking at him, the years had not tarnished him. They had given him strength, had added silver hairs to his temples and some expression lines around his mouth. To her, he stood larger than life, unmoved by all and everything, a man in command of his destiny. She still failed, after all the years, to see otherwise.

She saw him go to his office, a serious man with an intent gaze, a man who did things well. And then she saw her, a tall redhead with the easy stride of women who revelled in being desired. The redhead walked up to him and said,” I am leaving you .”He looked at her silently. The woman said it again, unable to believe he had already left her.

He said evenly, “I have heard you,” and turned his back on her. She was no more to him, and he left her as he had left many others before, always in search of the ideal partner, the perfect one, the one he deserved.

She followed him during his long day. She also followed him home and entered with him. He was alone and did not seem to expect company. If he missed the redhead or anyone else, she could not tell. He never seemed to miss anyone, he had been born to take and enjoy what others could give him, not to miss them. She had learnt that many years before and had still loved him to distraction.

It was late when he got into bed, after undressing. He had always been able to sleep in all circumstances, unmoved by all drama he may have stirred in others. She watched him fall asleep with his hair on the pillow, too beautiful for words.

So she went on watching him lovingly, wishing she still had an earthly body so she could lie at his side and be one with him at last.