The day you met her was a Sunday full of rain and dark clouds that didn't go away for hours even though it was summer and the trees were full of apples. The day you met her was equivalent to fifteen vacant crows that stared down from the sky as you made a mess of prepositions and conjunctions.
There were books about us before you met her. There were days when the couch was friendship sipping two cups of peppermint tea while the kitchen sink remained stubbornly full since neither one of us had bothered to wash the dishes. There was a shoe rack full of my heels and bedroom slippers that were neither comfortable or worth the money they cost. On Monday mornings, you could see the imprint of your shadow as you waited for me to come home and the apartment would smell of pumpkin and gingerbread even though you hated gingerbread. Your friends would ask about me before you met her. They would wonder if I'd managed to beat you in a game of chess or if you had won the last tennis tournament even though I wasn't there to cheer you on. When we went fishing on the holidays, you would hold the worm and swim after the salmon that got away from me. The day you met her the river went dry and the delta had little puddles of mud that occasionally inhabited a frog or two.
There was a bench beneath a lonesome oak and the squirrels that skippered ahead went quiet at the sight of us. They watched from a distance as you braided my hair and complained about my glasses as the sun reflected off the lenses and reminded you of your grandmother's spectacles when you used to spend your summer in the farm. You told me about the times you chased after chickens and milked the cows and I was startled to learn that you had a particular fondness for the countryside. We went on a hike following that conversation and you saved me from the goose that insisted on following me around the pond and beyond the white fences. This was before you met her and discovered that you must have a cup of coffee in your hand as you meandered through vendor shops and cafe lines that wrapped around two city blocks.
There was this one time when we went to the carnival and you tried to knock down ninety-nine bottles all for the vain hope of rewarding me with an ugly orange teddy bear I didn't want. I held your hand while we stood beneath a Ferris Wheel and when the cotton candy stuck to the corner of your lips, I tentatively touched your face. The look you gave me reminded me that I had yet to know you for more than three years but somehow the weeks had become months and the months had lingered into years. How was it that I never noticed your hair was the color of amber and your eyes sought the complete misunderstanding of my laughter and morning quirks?
At the bookstore, our hands grasped the spine of the same book and you told me that I reminded you of a heroine that died tragically. It was hardly the first impression I wanted to make. But I digressed and we moved on from the new fictions to the magazines and you insisted that the tea house next door was worth a visit. I flashed you one of my rare smiles and responded with a lewd joke. The day you met her, you didn't say a single word and instead it was I who endured the fifteen minutes of introductory pleasantry that made me increasingly uncomfortable because your leg kept bumping against mine as you urged me to continue the conversation. I didn't say anything on the ride back to our apartment.
The pot of indoor plants that you collected over the years died in a matter of weeks after you moved out. The dust that gathered after you leave the balcony window open no longer required a dusting and I could spend my tine lingering over my afternoon salad instead of searching for the broom. There was a fish tank that sat empty and lonely against the backdrop of a crowded bedroom on the day you took your guppies and left me with a single goldfish that died when I forgot to change the water. At night, as I climbed into bed, the closet door remained open because it was always you who did the last minute wardrobe change and I who waited exasperatedly for you to finish picking your tie to match with your suit.
The day you fell in love with her, I took the long way to work because I didn't want the office to gossip about my attempt at mascara and lipsticks.
