Labor Day

Photo by Greta Unetich

By Greta Unetich

It poured all night and all day. The world is blue. I drove over midday and we walked in it, through the gardens and the woods and the preserves. Fog lowers itself closer and closer to the ground as early evening approaches, and it starts to rain straight down. Instead of getting angry, I laugh. There are not many people outside; just those who were unlucky enough to be caught in it. We are not unlucky. My pants are too wet to wear by the time we return, so I put on a pair of yours and hang mine over your shower curtain rod. We eat a huge dinner, and I drive home a little while later.

Later that night, I look at the photos of you I have. I never want it to end— the early nights and early mornings, laying around when the afternoons are too long and dinner is too far away, grocery shopping every Friday afternoon.

These

Are the only breaths I want to be taking.

You are the life that I want.

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