I love my husband, Giran. I truly do. But the stranger—for some reason, he fascinates me.
I first saw the tall, pale stranger on a night when sleep eluded me. I left Giran snoring softly in our bed, put on a heavy robe, and stepped outside to feel the night air on my face. As I stood there, looking into the darkness, my gaze happened upon him. He was leaning against a tree, cloaked almost completely in shadows, but I could feel his eyes upon me. He seemed lonely. Full of longing. Hungry. I looked away for only a moment, flush with shyness, but when I looked back he was gone.
I saw him again last night, as we were returning home from dinner at my sister's house. He was watching me, I know it. At first, I was frightened. I thought to tell Giran about this brazen stranger, but for some reason I never did.
I've seen my pale stranger several times over the past few weeks. If Giran knew my innermost thoughts, he would be so angry with me. But he has nothing to worry about. I admit this stranger piques my interest, and it is obvious that he has noticed me. Still, this is only a silly fancy, nothing more.
* * *
The pale, handsome stranger invades my dreams. I cannot sleep. I need to see him again. But how? I don't even know his name. Oh, why am I having these unfathomable urges? Maybe when Giran takes his watch at the Northpoint cemetery tonight, I can sneak out of our house in the fishing village and try to find my stranger.
Look into his dark, bottomless eyes. Feel his cold lips upon my neck ....