His voice died down, as if he was about to divulge a dark secret. There was the love we wanted and the love we got, he remarked. And nothing ever really satisfies us. Few were lucky to have both, I thought to myself, and as if he had picked up on my line of thought, he solemnly conceded that he did have both. Once.

Redheads were the best, Landon said. He had found his perfect match; a voluptuous, young lady that satisfied his every need. Until his needs weren’t the only ones she was tending to.

On that night, outlining her was difficult for him. First her face, and then her voice had faded away. Even now, he still reeled when he smelled someone wearing the same perfume, but that too was getting lost in the sea of smells surrounding his new life. Time heals even the deepest of wounds, but so does it disperse the best experiences, Landon remarked with a nostalgic air.

His face changed a bit at this. It broke into a smile, very different from before. It was almost innocent. Landon went deep into his mind, recounting the first time that they met under the old willow tree by the riverside. He felt warm for the first time in our encounter, but I said nothing, not wanting to disturb him from the trance he seemed in. I did not have to, anyway; he took care of that himself.

His face unexpectedly contorted — a visage trying to merge sadness with a smile that refused to die lest it never resurfaced. It was not a close friend of his, nor anyone he ever knew.

Whether that was for the better, or for the worse, he’ll never know. And neither what would have come of the relationship. Even the very hope of starting all over seemed to have been extinguished for Landon.

Of course, he never spoke; he was through with words. His once-sparkly eyes did all the talking instead. If you were here with me, peeking into this empty soul, maybe you’d comprehend as well.

Part of you wants me to tell you that Landon showed me how good a man he was. Perhaps you want me to tell you that there’s a spirited ending, and that he made up with the one that got away. For all I know, not even *he* wanted that.

But I have no business in recounting fairytales. I’m just introducing you to Landon.

Landon is to blame as much as every single woman he has ever slept with is, and every relationship that allowed itself to be jeopardized for one fruitless night. In a way, he’s just making victims to sympathize with, because even sitting across the table from him, I caught a whiff of despair that he had let go. Landon is simply twisted in his own ways, trying to con the world into becoming a casualty that finally understands him.