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I simply didn't know what to think of this discovery. Had he left it particularly for me? Or was I being extraordinarily weird and obsessive by picking this up from his table when I noticed it as I passed?
I am a lover of poetry, and this particular poem was no exception once I'd read it. It evoked an emotional response from me, calling up memories of a lost love, of an abusive period of my life.
But was this a gift? Or was it a forgotten piece of his soul, a leaf fallen in the wind of creativity?
Though I suffered this initial uncertainty, my suspicions of an initiated affair were soon substantiated.