the answer is still no.

You would be my number 2, my second most dialed. The drive home would only seem like 5 instead of the 25 it sometimes takes me. After a long day at work, you would be my light at the end of the tunnel, my espresso to get me through the last leg. The stupid things, the bitchings, your poor ear. The surprises, the satisfactions, your dependant embrace. I could vent, free of consequences, knowing that you would listen. After awhile it starts to hurt. It is a powerful, yet empty, feeling that goes deeper than the heart. There is no immunity from desolation. Sometimes the signs of affection are least prevalent when most desired. The answer is still no. Noone, that is.