Notes Left on the Doorstep

Imbalance

I'm going to tell you a story about two normal – well, maybe normal isn't the right word. Ordinary? Typical? Everyday? No, those aren't right either. Young men. They were young men. I can say that with certainty. I'm going to tell you the story of two young men named Sanemi and Giyu who embarked on that extraordinarily common journey known as a relationship. It's not a pretty story. It's not sweet and airy like a soufflé perfectly baked, neither is it deep, dark, and scary like an unexplored cave. It's kinda unremarkable, like a stroll you take after dinner on a route you've taken hundreds of times, a quiet amble through familiar sights and cool breezes and that annoying pinch in the heel of your shoe that keeps giving you a blister and those people who won't pick up after their dog and those damn screechy brats who crushed my azalea bush (fuck them kids) and my mom who won't shut up about the price of gas these days - I mean I know it's bad , but does she not realize k-pop also exists and can be discussed ad nauseum?

Anyway...this is that kind of story. Because Sanemi and Giyu are that kind of couple. Still not sure what kind of story I'm talking about? Well, maybe it's better if I go ahead and show you.

Or actually, I'll let them tell it.

+++++

Giyu is weird.

"Have we lost our way as sentient, one might say, spiritual beings?" he said after we had finished dinner, and I had already settled very deep into his pillowy, smoke gray couch, I presumed for the night.

Giyu stood near the kitchen sink and held up his vat of a wine glass. He stared into the velvety vortex of maroon liquid swirling inside it. "The question plagues me like – well, a plague. Frequently, I wonder if we humans, in our haste to advance ourselves in economic and technological terms, have inadvertently sacrificed the very things that make us resolutely, even uniquely, human. We've become masters of multitasking, but can't seem to spare a smile for the clerk at the store. We can spend hours engaging with our phones and tablets, but can't seem to connect with the events unfolding around us. We don't spare even a moment's thought – much less a modicum of gratitude – for the multitudes who harvest the food we eat, who clean the establishments we frequent, who dispose of the trash we generate, who ensure water and power reach our homes. So much happens that we take for granted, labor executed tirelessly for our benefit, and we turn a blind eye. If only we could open our eyes in gratitude. If only we would accept the mantle of responsibility that patiently awaits our earnest efforts. Imagine the world that would result. I dare say, it might approach heaven on earth."

He does this all the fucking time.

I tilted my head and stared at him.

He continued to gaze at his glass and swirl his wine.

I stared at him.

He swirled his wine.

I stared.

He swirled.

Stared.

Swirled.

I sighed and hoisted myself out of the cotton-y soft comfort of his sofa. "You know you could just ask me to take out the garbage."

"In a day and age where the copious production of social content is a ubiquitous enterprise--"

"Fine! I'll do the recycling too!"

Why is he like this?

I grabbed the bag of garbage and the bin of recycling. "You're lucky you're cute."

Giyu placed another small bin under my arm. "And compost."

He could just say what he wants. But instead...