I grabbed leggings from one of the many shelves he had allotted to me. I was slightly dismayed to see that he, too, was wearing skin-tight leggings, but I let his eagerness to join me running override my horror at how tiny his thighs appeared compared to my own. His pace was rapid, with enormous strides, yet he stopped every minute or so to lean his body over a bench and procrastinate in various other indulgent stretches. After twenty minutes of fragmented bits of running, he said he was too hungry to continue and had to stop at the boulangerie. I jogged in place trying to cling to my rhythm that had been shattered by the need for a danish. As soon as he swallowed the last crumb, I took off to finish my run on my own. 

Both of us had work to do, though the work of the other remained unclear. With I in my satin brown blazer, and him in his fleece lined jean jacket, and both our bags packed with unknown supplies, we departed in opposite directions. I knew that I was headed for the Starbucks up the hill. I knew I would be sending emails trying to sell a live astronomy program to schools as I sipped on an iced latte with oat milk. I wondered where he was and what he was up to. The normalcy yet mystery entwined in it all was haunting, but comforting. It was almost a routine, yet there was a layer of pretense that lingered. It was the false sense of permanence. What was missing lay lost in the confusion of what we were doing and how long it would last. On one hand he told me he loved me, on the other, he didn’t feel the need to truly explain his job. Was that just because saying the words I love you were easier or simpler ones to occupy our conversation? I didn’t love him, but I did try to explain what I did each day in Starbucks. 

Early in the afternoon he appeared near Starbucks in good spirits. We ate gyros and he told me he had a surprise to show me. The afternoons held no routine, they were spontaneous and exciting and always unknown. I clung to our morning routine, to the security and independence it granted, but more secretly, I lived for the moment I could let go of myself and have the freedom to be dependent in the afternoon.