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    Love Dissolves
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In the northwest corner, Harrison is sipping on black coffee, not quite ready
to wake up. The french doors are open and the passing morning shower is
making itself at home. Jo is unwrapping the bedsheets from around her body,
cursing the butterflies that make it look easy. The kitchen floor is a field
of glass, and Harrison remembers that his socks are sticky. He continues
sipping without an expression. Jo's feet fumble with the steps, but she
emerges from the archway next to the fridge in one piece. As she peers inside
for a drink, Harrison notices the half of her hair not bound up in a clip. An
audible aluminum snap.

    "Really think that's a good idea, first thing in the morning?"

    From above the rim and through smudged eyeshadow, "Lighten up, Ri-Ri."

The duo sips in silence as the weather peeks inside the french doors.
Outside, the patio is grim and sleeping. The power lines snake through rain
and sparse blossoms on magnolias. A pair of children are bickering as they
walk to school across the street. Harrison does not notice when Jo sits down
across from him at the round table. She waves her hand in front of his eyes,
but he is not there. Harrison sips his coffee, doing a spit take when the
taste of pennies floods his mouth. The chalkboard on the wall begins to weep
with foam and spit.

    "Ground control to Major Harrison, do you read me?"

    Between sighs, "Loud and clear, boss."

    "I'm not your boss, but he might be angry if you're late."

The digital clock on the microwave is hard to make out. But the time above
Jo's head on his smartphone tells Harrison he needs to kick it into high
gear. Business casual, backpack, headphones, glasses, umbrella. Avoid the
glass on the floor. A kiss for Jo's forehead.

    "Don't drink too many of those."

    "You're not my mom."

    "Thank god."

    With a vague chuckle, "Amen."

The door closes softly.

***

The platform is busy this morning. Harrison's backpack feels heavier than
usual. Long nights with Jo make a lot of things feel heavier. Surfing on a
wave of screeching, the express line comes barreling into the station.
Hanging on a loop in the center car, listening to a podcast he has forgotten
the name of. It doesn't make him laugh like it used to. Outside, the morning
rain is embedded in the concrete. People jogging and walking dogs. A homeless
man on a bench smiling like a break in the clouds. The emtpy lots and
abandoned buildings on the north side of the tracks. The ride is robotic,
rhythmic in its austerity.

***

Brown apron with fake metal nametag. 'Hello, my name in Jolyne'. The smell of
pastries and coffee grounds is overwhelming. For a moment, a feeling of
immense worry resurfaces in Jo's thoughts. Did Harrison seem a bit more out
of it than usual today? No, of course not. Stowing away the thought, Jo takes
up her place at the counter, eyeing up the small group of customers coming
through the front door.

    A chime rattles as the door swings open and closed. "Hi! What can I get
    for you?"

***

In the quiet softness of his cubicle, Harrison is a machine. The bubbles in
the water cooler rise to the top as his coworkers chat about their weekends.
Saturday weighs heavily on the bridge of his nose. Harrison studies his
fingers, the keyboard beneath them, the letters being worn away with use. He
holds a finger over the 'J', and then the 'O', and then puts his hands in his
lap. In the cubicle to his right is a photo of Chris and his family. To his
left, Andrea has a calendar with pictures of bright morning hillsides. Next
to Harrison's monitor is a legal pad with a To Do list.

    Grab sandwich bread on the way home.
    Look into online courses for Jo.
    Write up the spreadsheet for last week's contracts.
    Set aside funeral expenses.

He picks up a pen and crosses off the spreadsheet item. He picks himself up
from his desk and walks over to the water cooler. Chris is saying something
about plans for waterskiing next month when he sees Harrison.

    "Hey, Harry! How are things with you?"

An image of shattered glass sweeps across his mind before he answers.

    "I'm doing alright. How 'bout yourself?"

***

In the break room, Jo is leaning back in a folding chair with earbuds and a
bowl of cherries. Lily walks in and immediately sits across from her, eager
to hear the news. Jo pulls out one earbud and offers the bowl to her
coworker.

    "Cherry, Lil?"

Lily takes a couple and rolls them around her palm as she leans in closer.

    In a hushed tone, "So how is he handling it?"

A memory of drinking and crying and laughing fills Jo's mind. The sight of
Harrison finishing off a bottle of Absolut. She saw it all over his face.

    With a careful smile, "He's trying his best."

Lily pops a cherry into her mouth and chews slowly, waiting for a real
answer.

    "Okay, he's still working through it."

A pit lands back in the bowl, a fresh one replacing it.

    "Just let me know if you need anything. I know how it feels to go through
    this."

    "...Thanks Lil. If I need anything, I'll call."

As general conversation takes over, Jo thinks about her plans for after work.
A new gallery just opened up down the street, next to that flower shop. She
has a bit of time to kill before heading back home.

***

Waiting for the express line back home, Harrison sits down at the table near
the public restrooms. Against the wall are two vending machines, from which
he gets a soda and a bag of lightly salted potato chips. Across the platform
the skyline of towers becomes gray against the orange smoggy sunset of the
city. Saturday feels like such a long time ago. As he checks his phone for
the time once again, he slowly eats a chip without tasting it. He knows
exactly what time it is, but he still checks. Something about the view calms
him, gives him a form for the peace he wants. The train trundles into the
station and he deposits his garbage in a can before boarding. Everything is
just how it always is on a Monday evening.

***

Exiting the gallery, Jo spots a cat wandering outside the flower shop.
Staring at the tulips and lilacs in the window, the hanging baskets of
hydrangeas spinning like a compass in a magnetic storm. The thought of a
storm reminds her of Harrison, and the joy of the gallery begins to fade
away. I hope he's doing alright. He should be on his way home right about
now. She glances inside the shop and sees rows upon rows of bouquets,
arrangements, pots, seeds, and tools. She checks her wallet for cash. A few
bills and change.

***

Stepping into the kitchen, Harrison notices that there is still glass on the
floor, and the remnants of his spit take all over the chalkboard on the wall.
Thanks for cleaning up, Jo. He sets the sandwich bread on the counter and
begins sourly cleaning up the wall, and then the glass on the floor. As he
picks it up, he lays it out like a puzzle, piece by piece. Some lettering
appears, 'A', 'S', 'LU'. He cannot remember how this happened, but he has a
good idea. He finishes cleaning up, and realizes that the windows are dark.
It's almost 9:00 and Jo is still not home. He heats up some leftovers for
dinner, heads upstairs, and climbs into the still unmade bed, open and
waiting, the lid of a fabric coffin.

***

Jo hurriedly enters the house, the smell of leftovers still faintly hovering
around the kitchen, now cleaned of broken glass.

    "Harrison, I'm home!"

Silence.

    "Alright, Ri-Ri, I know you like your hide-and-seek, but I'd like to see
    that pretty face of yours!"

Silence.

Stumbling up the stairs in a cold sweat, Jo flings open the bedroom door with
her free hand. Clinging to one of the pillows is a softly snoring Harrison.
Jo feels an inescapable smile take hold. She walks to the edge of the bed and
shakes his shoulder until he wakes up.

    "Uggh... Jo? Where have you been? What time is it?"

Jo doesn't answer, instead holding out a small bouquet of false flowers.
Harrison leans up on his left arm and takes the flowers, unsure of what's
happening.

    In a soothing, mellow tone, "Sorry I'm late. I stopped by the new gallery
    near work, and then spent a bit too much time deciding what flowers to
    get."

Harrison eyes up the flowers. They're all different colors, and made of this
strange nylon-esque fabric, but there's a smell he recognizes. Looking
closer, tucked in between each flower is a magnolia blossom.

    "I also spent a bit of time outside the house gathering those."

Something feels strange about that to Harrison. Looking up, he sees Jo
crying, almost shaking, but still smiling in that irrationally beautiful way.
Without thinking, he pulls her closer and rests her head on his shoulder.

    "You don't have to worry about me so much, Jo."

    "You say that, but you're crying more than I am."

Harrison feels an alien sensation as his fingers trace the tracks of tears
along his cheeks. The two of them stay there for a few minutes before Jo
heads to the bathroom to remove her makeup, now smeared and smudged with the
fruits of her worry. As she leaves, Harrison puts the flowers and blossoms on
the nightstand, next to the chair where his backpack sits. From the open
pocket, he can see the legal pad sticking out. He gets up, grabs a pen, and
crosses off the item for sandwich bread. His eyes hover over the last item
for quite some time.

    From the open bathroom door, "Ri-Ri, I think we need some more soap next
    time you go to the store."

Harrison smiles at the voice, adds another item to the list, and puts it
away.