[ WP ] You must tell your partner to run and never contact you or come back ever again .

Notes cloaked in anonymity. Only these carefully scrawled words passing silently between the lines of our feigned indifference. I find your wisps of paper embraced in the pages of a book, slipped beneath the door of my office. These intimacies somehow undiscovered by him; he who also lives and works in the throb of Montréal's offices and heart. 
 
 No names, no dates. Just these brief collections of lust and regret. 
 
 
 
 
 I hate this constructed distance. Nothing more than lines in the sand. 
 What happens when I cross it again, your little Maginot line? 
 Come see me. Just do n't tell him yet. 
 
 
 
 
 It takes everything I have to control my blood, to resist the need I have for you. 
 
 Days later we pass quietly in the market, pretending to be taken by the aromas of cinnamon spice and coffee. Doing everything in my power not to meet the gaze of you and my friend. But Gabriel grins at the sight of me and we three meet; the roles of cuckold and the adulterers playing out amidst fresh fruit, puff pastries and thump-marked novels. 
 
 `` Missed you at dinner last night,'' says Gabriel. He beams at me, this man I work with and love like a brother. But that is not enough to have stopped me and even now I feel myself unravel at your nearness. 
 
 I stammer an apology, citing illness, piles of paper work. Been under the weather. 
 
 `` Well, do n't worry. We should reschedule another time, soon. Maybe at that place on Rue Drummond, eh dear?'' 
 
 `` Yes,'' you say, risking a glance. `` We should. Soon.'' 
 
 Soon. 
 
 
 
 
 
 It is during the depths of night, after we have eaten and been eaten, that we speak what we know must happen. 
 
 `` I ca n't bear it any longer. The lies. I ca n't stand between the two of you any longer,'' you say. `` We should tell him. And... stop. Stop this, whatever this is.'' You turn to look at me, your eyes searching like a lighthouse in my mists for an answer, a response. You lay waiting for my reaction, naked beneath my sheets for the last time, and I can not help but marvel at your features in the glow of the city lights. Your theatre of expression, the dip of you dove-like shoulder as you prop yourself up. 
 
 Finally, I allow myself to break my silence. `` I wo n't tell him.'' 
 
 `` Well, what are you going to do? I ca n't keep hiding this. You are everywhere, for Christ's sake. At the office, at the house. Help me fix this.'' 
 
 I rise from the bed, averting the light from your eyes and light a cigarette from the pack we had started earlier. Let the smoke hang between us as I chose my words. Do it quick, urged my gut. There is mercy in brevity. 
 
 `` One of us will have to leave. Leave Montréal. For good,'' I say finally. 
 
 `` And what will that solve?'' 
 
 `` Everything. We ca n't be near each other, we ca n't be alone. I hate hiding in my own city. Hate hiding from my friend. You and Gabriel should go on a vacation, for a week or two. I'll be gone before you're back. I'll disappear.'' 
 
 `` What? You ca n't be serious? You're just going to run?'' 
 
 The look on her face is enough to dissemble him, the darkening of her eyes. But he trudges on, in the trenches of thought now. He aims to wound in hope of driving her back to her husband. To Gabriel. 
 
 `` I never want to see you again. It's what's best for the both of us. Leave for a week, or whatever you want to do, just give me some time to pack up. When you're back, I'll be gone. Poof. Like I was never here.'' 
 
 `` He'll know something's up. You ca n't just disappear on us.'' 
 
 `` Like I said, I ca n't ever see you again. I just ca n't see you again. Everything that happened, anything that we've said is bullshit. You're married, for God's sake. We ca n't keep screwing around forever.'' 
 
 These words hanging in the air like languorous smoke as you turned. 
 
 And then you broke. `` Ok.'' Rising, you scoop up your clothes. `` Gabriel will hate you once he knows. He'll hate you for leaving, too.'' 
 
 `` I ca n't face him. I wo n't face him. To stay and to keep up this charade would be too much. When I'm around you... it's too much. It..it has been too much.'' 
 
 I light another cigarette and open the door, wanting to say so much more but being unable to express it into anything meaningful. Somehow, the inadequacy of what we said was enough; I suppose we both knew what needed to happen even if we botched the speeches we'd written in our heads. I am drained of words and continue to smoke to feel a different kind of sting. 
 
 You, partially dressed, head to my desk and jot down something hurriedly in the dark. Rush out the door, eyes now red with tears, your chocked `` Goodbye'' barely above a lover's whisper. 
 
 I stand in my apartment and continue to smoke until I have finished the pack. Eventually, I walk to my desk and pick up your final note, running a nicotine stained hand through my hair. 
 
 
 
 
 I do n't miss you yet. 
 
 

