I match like with like, turning to face them and stopping them in their tracks as, hands on hips, I add my own water to the wet slick of rain at my fe...t.-----I remember what you told me last night about zucchini as I shop for produce in the supermarket. Fondling the firm, shiny-dark-green vegetables in their cardboard trays, the memory turns me soft and hard all at once, and I have to escape for release. I leave my trolley, my purchases, my handbag alone in an aisle to fend for themselves, and. I reach down and pull my wife into my lap, hugging her.“Shhhhh. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” I whisper in her ear.“No, it’s not. I hate myself. I am so sorry,” she whimpers amidst tears.“Just talk to me. Please talk to me. Whatever is wrong, you have to talk to me. Even if you tell me you just don’t love me anymore, just tell me, please,” I beg, lifting her face to look me in the eyes.“Don’t love you? Of course, I love you,” she says before collapsing on my shoulder crying.I stroke her hair and. More

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