I have to believe that the dark he’s in isn’t permanent. It’s a season. And even in the stillness, and even when he gives me nothing, I am rewritten by him. So I stay here. I stay with the man who used to be my world, even if I’ve been exiled, even if my memories are a mosaic of broken glass. I’m a man walking an unfamiliar shore. The place I left is behind me and what’s ahead of me isn’t mine. The sand shifts beneath my feet, unstable and treacherous, like everything else in my life right now. I love him. It’s a love that wants to carry water for him, sharpen his blades, and stand in front of
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