My mouth dropped open. "James . . ." The name that I have uttered for four years finally rolled off my tongue, but no one was there to catch it.

The crowd was immediately thrown into chaos.

"That man! He just disappeared!"

Some kind passerby rushed to help the two men on the ground, writhing in pain. I didn't know who they were, but anger flared in me. They were the ones who took James away from me.

Police and ambulance sirens sang in the distance. I knew this was my cue to go. I pushed through the throngs of curious people. My mind was still reeling.

James, James, James . . .

What had he meant?

The man I had been with -- had lived with, had loved with all my heart . . . I thought I knew every secret to him. What could he have been

hiding?

The black suits and mysterious exchanges made me think of the spy movies we watched together. James always scoffed at the technology and pointed out the mistakes.

Could he be an agent? But if he was chased after, he must be the "bad" guy.

I made it to our apartment without realizing. Everything was still the same, but the other owner would never be back. I curled up in his side of the sofa. His scent was still there, washing over me. I could imagine that he was still there, embracing me.

Furious knocking on the door shattered the fantasy. I almost fell off the couch, my eyes flying open.

I held my breath, hoping they would go away. But the knocking intensifies.

"CIA! Open up!"