The thermostat's set to 72. I taped a note over it last winter: 'Don't touch.' She still does.
I check the weather in the city every morning now. Not my city. Hers.
She started a new job three weeks ago. Opposite shifts — I'm up at 4am, she's home past midnight.
Today is her first payday. She texted me a picture of the stub. Proud of it.
The city forecast says rain by 7pm. I'll meet her at the ferry with an umbrella.
She says, 'You don't have to check the weather for me.' But I do.
I used to check the tides. Now I check the weather somewhere I don't even live.
That's marriage, I guess. You start living in the weather of someone else's life.