David

I came to him from behind. A friend said, "Go see Damir, he's the best."

I saw him and forgot why I came. Dark hair in a ponytail, strong arms, brown eyes. A voice that made everything inside me turn over.

“Take off your clothes and lie down on your stomach,” he said casually.

I blushed. He didn't notice.

An hour of his hands on my body. I prayed that he wouldn't hear my heart.

— You're under a lot of stress. You'll have to go more often.

• Fine.

I went. Twice a week. Then three. I signed up for every available appointment. He did his job. And I dreamed of those arms hugging me for more than just a massage.

A month later, his girlfriend came. She brought lunch. She kissed me on the cheek. I sat in the hallway and looked through the glass. He smiled at her. Not at me.

One day he asked: — Do you have a boyfriend?

• No.
• It's strange. Such a beautiful girl - and alone.

He said it politely, like he was speaking to a client. But I didn't sleep all night.

I still go to him. For six months. His hands are on my body. His "good afternoon" and "goodbye." He doesn't look at me any differently. He has her.

But I'm not leaving.

Because these six months are the only thing I have.

She came for a massage because of back pain. Damir has been working there for six months. She's in love with him, but he doesn't notice. He has a girlfriend. Today she came for another session, but inside she's shaking.