Two months went missing, time went metric. Twelve to ten, base ten. This wasn’t laziness, a world fell to ruin, a marriage fell apart.

In January, I let the autopay expire on the engagement ring’s insurance policy on the. It seemed like a solid, adult thing to do at the time. Adults own insurance. Adults need insurance. The ring was an asset. One day it became a liability.

My wedding band, etched with our initials, wore too loose. In cold Chicago—do you remember?—it leapt from my finger to the cracked Skylark terrazzo. Your parents were there, an eviscerated graduation cake between us. It took years for the callus to form a ridge there, seatbelting it in place. I’ve always hated jewelry; I was proud of it, though. How long before a callus erodes? 

Each night I iron out the ridge that bisects our big, big lucky mattress. It erodes into a plain one dream at a time. I’ve found music again, thank the lord. I wish that we were always high. We can’t be high all the time.