Ours
By Aphony Cree
When we started this there was no talk of mine and yours. We
didn't label what was who's, it was all just ours. But now there is no us and I
see him slipping the copy of Rent into his suitcase.
I remember the day we bought that. It rained for two days,
forcing us inside, and when it finally stopped all the sidewalks sparkled like
diamonds. We strolled down them, hand in hand, the smiles on our faces out
shining the re-emerging sun. We slipped into the record store, ignoring the
disapproving glance of the counter worker as Tony slipped his arm around my
waste. Then later, back home, the rain started up again. It pattered against the
bedroom window as we made love to the sounds of I'll Cover You. We held
each other all afternoon, letting the disks play on repeat as we told each other
stories of the beautiful life we'd lead together.
I waited until he left the room. When he went to get his things out of the bathroom I moved to his open suitcase, finding the thick CD case. He could keep disc one, it was half his after all, but I took disk two. He finished his packing, throwing razors and shampoo into the bulging leather bag, then with a few curt words was out the door. The rain started up again, covering the house with a blanket of water and drowning out all sounds of the world beyond. I opened the CD player, put the disk in, and cued it up to the track I wanted. Without You came through the large speakers, wrapping around me as I laid on our bed feeling the emptiness.