She rubbed the little crease between her eyes, and Harry backed down. He was tired of the subject, and wanting nothing more than to simply pretend they were on a date. That was impossible, of course. He always made it too hard. Too much work. The last remnants of the day were fading along with his hopes of ever getting through to her.

"It's a nice view. Let's walk, come on."

She didn't answer, but had no choice but to follow as he stepped out. The boats passed by them in the opposite direction giving them the illusion that they were walking very fast. Diane hesitated to keep up with him, but felt even sillier hanging back like a coward.

Glancing over his shoulder, he could see that his diversionary tactic had worked. Harry concentrated on developing a comfortable pace, so they could stroll together without having to work at it awkwardly. Like a skilled dancer taking the lead, he brought her along smoothly without her even noticing it.

"I have needs too, Diane. Don't you remember? Love is a crime that needs an accomplice."

"What are you talking about?" She folded her arms tightly in front of her.

"I think you know, but neither of us wants to be the victim of the other."

"Stop it. That's not what I asked."

"Isn't that what you tell yourself all the time..'It's not fair?' But what you really mean is that you don't deserve love twice. You should be grateful for what little measure you had because it was real and most people don't even get that."

Diane stopped and shouted, "Shut up, Harry!"

Undaunted, he moved in closer with a few steps and cocked his head to the side, "You wanted to believe that you could relive it easily...in the exchange of a momentary desire and the contact of two skins, but it didn't work, did it?"

She shivered involuntarily and turned away. "I'm nnn-not talking to you about this."

"Don't you remember what passion was like, Diane?" He took her arm firmly as he came up beside her. "Don't you ever go there in your head just to make it hurt so you know that you're still among the living?"

"Let go of me," she ordered.

Ignoring her, Harry had her by both arms now and none too gently prevented her escape. "Well I remember, and it's torture. Everytime I look at you, I feel it."