I set the table for two, lighting a candle and pouring the best wine I could afford on a teacher’s salary. I stood by the counter and nibbled a few fibers of lettuce, staring out among the peaceful stillness of our new life.
You are the captain of your fate.
By the time Brandon got back, it was six o’clock. He carried with him a shitstorm of rain and wind. A blustery cold storm blasted into the house when Brandon opened the door and coasted inside, literally blown in by the heavy gusts. My quiet musings were interrupted by the welcoming lilt in his cheerful voice. He hummed as he entered the kitchen, singing a song he sang to me when we first dated. I held him to memory, like a Polaroid photo, capturing everything I loved about him. His wavy, tousled hair, his scruffy five o’clock shadow
