Member-only story
Portrait of a Lost Lover
Miriam was the ghost of a love long ago.
Miriam and I met at what felt like the end of the world.
What was that end of the world, you ask? Holiday shopping at Costco the day before Christmas Eve.
Our carts nearly rammed into each other as we were headed to the checkout line. I waved for her to pass by, and she gave me an embarrassed little smile before she took the right of way to get in front of me. But of course we had chosen the slowest line as a granny — probably near her eighties, bless her heart — rang up packages of meat and boxes of Christmas lights alike.
I decided it was the perfect time for some conversation — particularly because I couldn’t help noticing the shapely curve of the woman’s ass in her jeans. What could I say? I had eyes and a mind that appreciated those finer things in life.
“So,” I started, “any plans for Christmas Eve?”
I couldn’t tell you if I meant it as a come-on or pickup line or what. Did I think this stranger would drop her plans for me to spend Christmas Eve at some lonesome Chinese restaurant while families in the surrounding houses sat around glowing trees? But I had long grown cold on the idea of the holidays. Nowadays, I just wanted to enjoy what time I had left on this earth that wasn’t working to the bone to…
