Stay with Me

A hundred and two days.

That's probably about average, but it didn't seem close to that long, especially in the beginning, that first month or so. It was just getting to that sweet spot, where everything is perfect for a while. A short while. Before it starts to fade—little by little, usually. Not for them, though. For them, it was ripped away in the middle of an ordinary summer afternoon, in a little less than a minute and a half.

It happened in a city you may or may not have heard of, but you probably know them—people like them. You have a friend like her, and maybe you've worked with somebody like him. At minimum, you've seen them around, in restaurants, on the street, walking a dog or two. People said, Hey, what's the big deal? It happens all the time. And it does. Until it happens to you. Then it's something different all right, especially when you're left to wander the wreckage.It started in an unremarkable way, the same way it starts for lots of people: A hint was dropped, an introduction was made. When you're set up like you think it'll never work out. But it can, and sometimes it does.

It does.

And then somebody does something stupid. Not stupid. Somebody loses control. And then…

A hundred and two days. And then it was over.