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Everyone who know me knows Emi. I mention her even to acquiantances as if I by sharing her with others she would become more real to me. The relationship seems like an overworked story. It has played over and over in my mind, in my conversations, in my writings. It becomes an obsession almost.
Why do I have these feelings for her? What is it that makes me keep in touch with her? Why this fascination? Is it the lusting, the longing for things that are theoritically within reach but practically beyond? Perhaps it is nothing more than the desire for desire rather than for the object of that desire.
I pick up the phone and call her one day. Her voice sounds different on the phone. Sounding more American than three years ago. Her English teacher is American.
