This cat and mouse game we play, though exciting, is, to be blunt, driving me crazy. Life is short. We're not getting any younger. I'm crazy about you and I've gathered it’s mutual, yet we're both too bloody proud to make the first move... what to do? I hope one of us cracks. I hope I'm dancing across your brain like you are mine at night; that you're hoping the following day will be the day. I wish you knew how much I'd cherish you. Here's hoping I guess... —The Constant Gardener