True to form. You appeared with your basket of vegetables like a Shakespearean apparition. A loon that surfaced as mysteriously and suddenly as she disappeared into the murky depths. I had to blink for us, tell myself that yes, it is she, in the flesh. This is how our story goes. Me looking down at your avocados and baby carrots, noticing that you chose your avos well–dark and supple-skinned, they will be ripe soon. And you, taking deep breaths for both of us, looking with disbelief toward the dark eyes that can recite the poetry of your flesh.

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