h u r r i c a n e.

he said it was a professional thing. i don’t know why i bought that. my mom says i always trust tigers too much, am gonna end up with a mauling.

“you know,” he sighs, “you’re in love. and you’re happy. and it’s not even like i need that kind of thing, but i want it. i want someone who tries their best to keep me happy and who is always there for me and will be in my bed at night and wake me up with coffee in the morning. i want that.”

“uh,” i say. i think i’m taken aback, but i am not enough of a white middle-aged woman to feel valid in the emotion. i settle for shuffling the papers we still haven’t gone through. “okay.”

he leans over. “i know you’re like, gay, or whatever - but how did you find her? where do i find somebody like her?” deep breath. “someone for me, like that. someone romantic, that remembers all my plans and ideas and desires. who gets me the right gift even when i wasn’t expecting it. you know. true love.”

there’s wrong, and then there’s this. and he’s not the first person i’ve heard say basically the same thing. i tear up a piece of croissant. “you want love,” i say.

“yeah,” he says.

National Library - Athens, Greece