B, age 31.

She'll only whisper his name. They've never really spoken, but I tell her their souls are on the same plane and she seems happy enough. The confusion in the cards we give to their hesitant glances, the clumsiness of attraction.

And the woman I ask? Oh, the woman. Of course there's a woman. Professing to be single, he is often pictured with a girl. We imagine him locked in an unhappy situation, unfulfilled, his heart not entirely his own. B is flattered, I think.