on the bus, and how he hadn’t eaten a homemade meal in three years, even though his kitchen was as large as my entire apartment.
He called the next morning.
Then he called every morning after that, gentle and precise, as though kindness could become a routine.
Three months later, in a small restaurant where the waiter knew him by name, Russell pushed a ring across the table.
He said he wasn’t asking me to love him, only to let him care for me.
I told myself I was being
