maize raze i think i had one small window of opportunity. and i hate that expression. it feels reductive. as if a person is a room you can walk into anytime you like. it's just that this one night, things felt different. we went to the tecumseh corn festival. down with webster were headlining. their song "one in a million" was everywhere that summer. we weren't there for the music. we were there just to be somewhere. you had free passes. you asked me to go with you. it wasn't a date. it was two friends listening to "don't stop 'til you get enough" on the drive there and dancing with their arms. there were rides, but we didn't go on any of them. we walked around and talked about everything and nothing. you told me you'd left the guy you'd been living with for the last year. i always imagined him with a british accent. i knew he wasn't british. i couldn't explain it. it was something my brain did. it didn't sound like there was much wrong with him. you didn't like that he had chronic sleep problems. you didn't like that he wanted the air on in the summer. you wanted the windows open and the air off. other than that, you said he was great. but you weren't feeling it anymore. you packed your bags while he was at work and let him come home to a half-empty house. then you took a shower at your mother's house. that's one way to end something. a cute korean couple who didn't speak english asked us to take their picture. they took a picture of us too. it came out so blurry we didn't even look like the people we were. and maybe for one night we weren't. the plan was to leave before the music started, but we weren't quick enough. i didn't have any earplugs with me. i glued my hands to my ears and shook my ass to "turn down for what". you laughed. on the drive back you said you felt like things were changing. you wanted to stop at a convenience store and buy a lottery ticket. you had this strong feeling. it was something you needed to do right now. "you have to come in with me, though," you said. "okay?" "why?" "because i'm scared." you looked down at your feet. the window closed, and everything went back to the way it was before. i knew i shouldn't have asked why you wanted me to go in with you. i should have said i would be there beside you. maybe you would have won a million dollars, or ten, or nothing, and maybe the two blurry people in that picture would have found things to love in each other, and maybe we would have lived together until i came home one day to find our shared life bisected, the half i was left with too weak to stand on its own, and yours with muscles in its legs i didn't know were there. it's just as well. i don't like to leave the windows open in the summer anyway. 210920 what's it to you? who go blather from