I thought I was OK. I really did. I consciously had observed to myself – you’re doing OK, you don’t think about him all the time, your allegiance has shifted, you’re letting go…
And then I saw the shirt. There, in the latest of the almost daily catalogues from a desperate LL Bean. A beautiful dark red-brown plaid flannel shirt. It would be perfect for him, with his dark red-brown hair and pale skin.
I’ve seen him in shirts of this color.
I remember him in shirts of this color.
I snuggled up to him
on this very couch
while he wore a shirt of this color
and worked a cryptic crossword,
his hair red-brown and perfect
over a small contented smile.
I thought I was OK.
Then I saw the shirt.
And I started to cry.