The girl he never noticed

When I think about my boss at all, it's usually because I had a dream about him. It's amazing how the details are all still there in my brain, even after house later of sleeping. The rubbed-thin feel of his band t-shirts, the oakmoss notes in his cologne, the way his hair felt on the soft skin on my neck. If we had sex, I'm sure those memories would be there, too, but we never did because I couldn't finish of the dream My relationship with Henry exists in my brain in a kind of category-less limbo. Definitely more than a friendship, but not quite an actual relationship. We used to stay up nights talking philosophy and science, art music and about his son but than he never noticed me the way I wanted him. I loved the way his mind worked. He was predictable, but funny. Quiet, but not tame. Generous with his time, his friendship, his feelings. I still remember when he saw me admiring an expensive art book in a bookshop, he surprised me with it a week later. He signed it, "thank you love." There was no occasion.