the moment

He remembers the moment like few he remembers. She was lying in bed, naked, and he was leaving, because it was time, and he looked over at her and saw, for the first time, how incredibly beautiful she was and how beautifully innocent she was, and he realized, then, that he never would have her, never could have her. He kept seeing her, of course, but, from that moment on, with an understanding of what it was: a moment of time borrowed, not owned, and never forever. He couldn’t explain it to her, even if he tried, which he didn’t. He was certain, and correctly so, that she wouldn’t understand.