Another page... Another block of text so very few will even read. If you are one of the few welcome. I'm a very laid back person. Enjoy making friends and talking to all kinds of people.
"He rose from the bed, went to the closet, drew out a duffel bag, pulled down an armful of garments, and stuffed them into it. He crossed to the dresser, opened a drawer, and emptied its contents into the bag.
"You're leaving?"
"Yes."
He entered the bathroom, emerged with two fistfuls of personal items, and dropped them in the bag.
"Why?"
He rounded the bed, picked up his bodyglove and hair piece, rolled them into a parcel, and put them in the bag.
"It's not what you may think," he said then, "or even what I thought until just a few moments ago."
She sat up.
"You think less of me," she said, "because I seem to like you more now that I know your secret. You think there's something pathological about it---"
"No," he said, pulling on his shirt, "that's not it at all. Yesterday I would have said so and used that for an excuse to storm out of here and leave you feeling bad. But I want to be honest with myself this time, and fair to you. That's not it." He drew on his trousers.
"What then?" she asked.
"It's just wanderlust, or whatever you call it. I've stayed too long at the bottom of a gravity well. I'm restless. I've got to get going again.
"It's my nature, that's all. I realized this when I was looking to your feelings for an excuse to break us up and move on."
"You can wear the bodyglove. It's not that important. It's really you that I like."
"I believe you, I like you, too. Whether you believe me or not, your reactions to my better half don't matter. It's what I said, though. Nothing else. And now I've got this feeling I won't be much fun anymore. If you really like me, you'll let me go without a lot of fuss."
He finished dressing. She got out of bed and faced him.
"If that's the way it's got to be," she said "Okay."
"I'd better just go, then. Now."
"Yes."
He turned and walked out of the room, left the apartment, used the stairs again, and departed the building. Some passerby gave him more than a casual look...... "
HALFJACK by Roger Zelazny