Maybe it’s been four weeks but it would be hard to say precisely as time has stopped being a way to manage her day. The emails started out of the blue with a Facebook message. She didn’t remember “friending” him but he said she did. He seemed intimate yet she couldn’t recall a time when they had actually spoken. They had never touched and she had no idea of the color of his eyes or the shape of his earlobes: both things she remembered when love died.

Initially the emails were very ordered on his part. Being a banker this was not surprising. Paragraphs, indentations, capitalizations and your basic words, nothing interesting for her to ponder the meaning of.

She wrote back in flourishes just as she moved through life feeling that it was too hard to be anyone other than herself. Sometimes she did wonder if he understood and as time went on she thought he must.

The emails came now every other day. Then every day. Then twice a day and now began with “Dearest”.

They met over a Zoom call. He seemed smaller and quieter and would have spoken constantly about the distant shore if she hadn’t asked him if he lived with another woman. His eyes barely moved while his mouth talked about his life, his schedule, his love of a boy and in only a few words she saw how lost he was.

It really didn’t disappoint her. She had known it all along. For a time the romance of it like a sparkly veil over her eyes felt so pleasant she began to use it to shut out the world. Inside, under the veil, was the happy child waiting to be cherished. It felt so very good, so warm and so hopeful.


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One response to “Love”

  1. Cynthia Roby Avatar
    Cynthia Roby

    I understand!

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