Providence

Strawberries were everywhere. They were at school, on TV, dipped in champagne, in chocolate. They’re a sex fruit. A love fruit.

The dopamine rush that follows a notification. Someone wants you. Someone’s thinking of you. This feels good to us. It makes our bones tingle. It’s universal.

I carry your heart in my heart.

I see their relationship all at once, how hard they worked to make a life, to overcome her feelings for me, how horrible it is for them both to realize what a fool’s errand it was.

You don’t lose a person all at once. You lose them in parts.

We officially become those sad people, fighting people, that awful couple who comes to your party and spends the night outside fighting.

We exist, each one of us, because of timing.

being the one to hold her, to walk down the street with her, to eat eggs with her, the idea of her art coming from his home and his bedroom and his love.

There’s no stopping the cramping in my soul

It’s amazing, how much you can hear in the silence of two married people.