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at his hip. He glanced at the caller ID and an immediate wave of panic passed through his chest. Robert.. And it was six o’clock. Shit. Wincing, he flipped open the phone. “Hey, babe.”
    “Where in the hell are you? You’re supposed to be here. You know how annoyed I get when you don’t keep our plans.” Craig sighed inaudibly. Robert, his boyfriend for the past eight years, worked in Battery Park for Goldman Sachs as an investment banker and was nothing if not punctual, precise, and a pain in the ass.
    “I’m so sorry. The project for those two batty ladies with the B&B is giving me problems and I lost track of time…again.” Craig hoped his excuse would ease the irritation radiating at him through the phone. Robert responded well to business and work issues.
    “Well, I guess I can understand that, but you should have called to tell me you’d be late.”
    Craig shook his head. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be home in about twenty minutes.” He hung up and went back inside to shut down his work station and gather his things. He lived with Robert in the West Village so the walk home was short and pleasant. Before leaving, he flipped through the file for Earth and Sea one more time, then closed it a bit more roughly than intended and left the building, locking up behind himself.
    He pulled out another cigarette and cupped his hand to prevent the wind from blowing out the flame. His foot caught on an uneven patch of the sidewalk and he stumbled. The cigarette dropped to the ground as Craig grabbed for the phone booth next to him before making a complete ass of himself and tumbling all the way to the ground. His cigarette rolled down the sidewalk, blown by the wind, so he abandoned the idea of smoking, and continued walking south towards the West Village.
    He passed one of the many travel agencies littered about Chelsea and his thoughts returned to Robert. A mixture of sadness and aggravation filled him as he recalled 8

    D.H. Starr

    Meant For Each Other
    Robert’s terse tone over the phone. For the past couple of years, ever since Robert had been promoted at work and ran his own domestic trading floor, he had become fixated on deadlines and money, unable to draw a line between work and his personal life. He seemed to measure his worth by material success, what he owned, where he traveled, how others perceived him.
    As always when he longed for the way their relationship used to be, Craig’s mind drifted back to the night eight years ago, each detail as vivid as if it had just happened.

    * * * * *
Twenty-two and fresh out of college, Craig had just moved to New York into his small loft in the West Village, something he had sublet from an artist who would be traveling through Europe for a year.
    Despite his friendship with Janet, a friendship which had saved him from his loneliness and depression, Craig had never given men a real chance. No one could measure up to Jeremy. If Craig were to be honest with himself, he didn’t want anyone to be able to replace the one person who he truly loved. A part of him had hoped that someday they might reconnect, but Jeremy had called him less and less frequently the more time passed and Craig was too afraid that if he raised the issue, he might push Jeremy away completely. As it turned out, that was precisely what happened without him doing anything.
    After he and his friends unloaded his stuff, he had decided to explore the city. He found himself in a local gay bar, The Monster, located in the heart of the gayest part of the neighborhood, Christopher Street.
    He had been out since he had gone to college, but UNH didn’t have a vibrant and extensive gay community and his sexual experiences had been limited at best. The choice to move to the city was bold, but also exciting and he couldn’t wait for his world to open up before him.
    When he entered The Monster, he pushed his nerves aside and walked to the bar, preparing himself to be carded. He looked at least three years