“Please stop looking at me like that,” he told her.
“Like what?”, she asked with her piercing eyes still on his face.
“Like you could love me.”
“And if I do?”
“If you do love me, please be gentle with my soul. Please love me with a love that can be felt. That can be touched. A love that I can write about gracefully if and when it ends. Which I may look back and say: “that was a good love. It had to end but it was good.”