The only thing in this entire house from the house before that apartment, before we happened to each other, is this cobalt blue drinking glass. It’s humble but its color is otherworldly, fadeless as early time. The last survivor
of a set of six that otherwise shattered, ended as shards in the earth somewhere. I like to look through its deep color and see you moving in 
a blue world. How strange we survived all those years, which were like wet hands holding us, strange blue glass. How ready sometimes we were to slip, to shatter. Doesn’t everyone pray to destruction sometimes? But something was looking through us. Maybe these days.