If You're Not Yet Like Me

The new world functions on email and takeout, and after Zachary walked away from me, I took full advantage

People say all kinds of nonsense about loss: When one door closes, another opens. Everything happens for a reason. This, too, shall pass. A girl will bleed and then she will cry. But none of those lines help; they’re no better than spit, something to toss across your tongue when you’re bored. And when you swallow, it feels like you’re cannibalizing yourself. How long until there’s nothing left?

When we woke the next morning, Zachary asked me how I took my coffee, and I said, “No particular way,” which was, suddenly, true. I would drink it dark or with cream, sugared or bitter.
I told myself I was done with requirements. Was I?