“I became much closer with Theo, as she was going through a similar thing. I hadn’t even confided in her about my situation, but she didn’t hold back in telling me what she was going through. She was heartbroken, poor girl; and I shouldn’t have, but I took consolation that it wasn’t just me who couldn’t be with the person I wanted.”
I guess my face must have looked inscrutable, because he continued.
“Living in the flat was a very difficult time for her. She was in love, and was often sad.”
The idea now was blatantly obvious, revealed entirely and forlorn in its posture. I saw it personified every day; it climbed into bed with me each night and flashed its kindness and heat whenever it could. It displayed its loyalty, dedication and patience. It gave me strawberries and sunflowers. In relating to me one of his own truths, Plato had also conveyed another. I could give it, her, a name.
“Who was Theo in love with?” I asked hollowly, my legs shaking.