Ordinary Life

Dear Three, Hi, I'm Deuce. We haven't met yet, but we will. I've known about you long before auditions began. And I've always told him I aim to be your friend. There are children involved, after all. You are no doubt lovely, and gentle and kind. He has top-shelf taste though his budget is sometimes inflated. He says he is going to wife you soon; very, very soon he tells me. Perhaps sometime in early October, when my birthday rolls around. I think he intends that to stun and sting. But I am already quite numb from the earlier blows. Though we are not exactly divorced yet, I tried that whole  kinstugi  thing. The gold we found in  Rome 's mountains could not heal or seal us, and all the  King's horses and Prince Simon's men , couldn't put us back together again. It takes both sides holding their broken parts, together. While I must note the ease with which two decades have been discarded, it is only a reminder for myself. You must not read into my tone a l...

It was meant to be one of those poetic, possibly romantic gestures. We were celebrating two decades of life together. There had been some brokenness along the way to be sure, but we had survived, persevered and even as recently as this very trip, chosen each other once more. A few months prior, in a fit of anger, he had taken off his wedding band and set it on the hotel dresser where we were arguing  staying before driving himself to the lake. True to the well-worn pattern, he drew near once the mood had lifted and wanted his ring back, but it had been indefinitely misplaced by then. We talked of getting rings tattooed. But he couldn't mark up his body, he said. Instead, he said he ordered an identical ring to the one he removed. It was coming in the mail, any day now, he said. I found out later they don't make that ring anymore. He had not placed an order, but I am sure that he meant to. Back to the future-past, where we find ourselves in Orlando (Lake Buena Vista to be exact...