I think he genuinely was working this time, because he had some equipment with him (I'm a town girl; to me it was a bucket and rake, but to him it wa... probably something more sophisticated.) When he saw me he was quite taken aback and dropped the things he was carrying and just stood gawping and blushing.“Hi, Tony. How's things? I was just enjoying an evening walk. My, you look as if you've been working hard.”Tony carried on standing there, tongue-tied, but clearly excited at being alone. Yet, through all this, he still craved her. His cravings, longings, musings were something he’d come to hate. He’d hear her voice and his insides would melt, butterflies would fill his stomach. ‘Catharine,’ he spoke into his empty cell, ‘I love you, I need you, please, please come to me!’ Sometimes he thought he heard her laugh, light and sweet, other times he was certain he’d become delusional. She’d left him a note pad and a pen, on which he scribbled love notes, and occasionally sketches of. More

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