Sometimes a workout reminds me of that ache in my thighs and chest. I just wanted time in his apartment, to relive maybe not the first night, but the morning after. I needed to know I’d see him outside of the office. I don’t regret my choices that night, but it hurts to remember. I told him I just wanted to see where it could go, would go. He told me he “couldn’t date right now.”He liked spending time with me.
Or maybe it’s that I’m willing to blow off others just to get coffee with him. He bought me ice cream at Union Square because I’d had a shitty day. I hate that it were those first moments of falling. I didn’t care that he was shorter than me and had a man bun. I just wanted to stay between those brown eyes — seen, wanted, known. Once he called me because, “We’ve fucked more than we’ve talked on the phone.” And I felt joy curl into my toes. His family, my family, the way our neurons were warped by nature and nurture. It was one of the best things about whatever we were: he understood my need for levity and seriousness, and we danced along a range of ideas. We used an afternoon of bad internet at the office to go to his place. The door clicked and our bodies became like magnets.‘Professional,” he joked to me between kisses. “I’m trying to be professional here.”To continue our collaboration, I took off my dress. The daughter, 17-year-old Henriette Karra, was in a relationship with a Muslim man, against the urging of her parents, according to a criminal indictment filed in Israeli district court this week.In late May, Henriette left the family home after threats and abuse from her parents, the indictment said.