It's the little things that remind me of him still, the light passing through the leaves on a cool spring day, the books he left in my apartment that he will never come back for, and the sense of dread I feel when I walk past where he and his wife used to live.

  Was that really him? I wondered as I caught up to Isaac. A long time had passed since we’d finished high school. I had really come into my own: I had my own apartment, a nice, well-paying job, almost everything I’d ever wanted.

  Almost.

  Isaac didn’t recognize me at first. Of course he wouldn’t. Still, a glint of familiarity sparked within Isaac’s dark eyes as he returned my hello. “It’s been a very long time.”

  “So do you wanna grab a drink?” I felt the phrase effortlessly glide out of my lips.

  “Sure.” Isaac replied, folding his suit-jacket onto his forearm. He fastened his tie, a fashionable green-striped one, and we walked to the nearby bar.

  As we sat in our booth, I noticed the grey peppering Isaac’s hair and the slight furrow in his brow, the signs of time adorning him like a vivid painting with old, browning varnish. I’d been told by a friend that Isaac had torn a ligament shortly after graduation. Couldn’t py basketball anymore.

  “You look exactly the same as back then.” Isaac remarked.

  “It’s only been, what? Ten years?” I joked, but Isaac didn’t ugh.

  He ordered beer, I ordered a gss of wine. As he brought his hand to his gss, I noticed the ring on his finger.

  “Married?”

  “You can call it that.”

  “How long?” I pried further.

  “Nine years.” He said with a cynical smirk.

  “That's so early… A wedding at nineteen?” I blurted out. Tact was never my strong suit.

  Isaac widened his eyes, “Well…”

  “Oh, I’m sorry-”

  “Don’t be, I always liked how forward you were.” He interjected. “Like, back then.” A long silence followed.

  I gingerly sipped my wine.

  “So I work for this petrochemical company, mainly public retions.” Isaac said. “Before you ask: No, it’s not interesting.”

  “You got me figured out, I see.”

  “Pretty much” He took another drink of his beer. “So what do you do?”

  I can’t just tell him that I’m paid to make powerpoint presentations and gossip on company time, so I reply with “I’m a middle manager for this tech company. It’s actually not as boring as it sounds.”

  “That’s good, at least you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “I mainly enjoy getting paid.”

  He gave a little chuckle in response. “And what do you like doing in your spare time? Taking out strange men from the street to bars?” He fshed me a mischievous smirk.

  “I might…” I ughed and felt my cheeks going hot. Was it the wine? Maybe I overextended myself socially. My wine gss was empty and so was his cup. Then I remembered.

  “Crap, I forgot that I shouldn’t be drinking. It’s my medication…”

  “Are you alright?” He asked, the pyfulness instantly leaving his eyes.

  “Yeah I’ll just take a taxi home, don’t worry about it.”

  “No, I’ll drive you home.” Isaac insisted.

  I was still feeling out of it, and tried to keep myself in control as I fumbled with the keys to my door.

  “Why did you get married so young?” I blurted out.

  I felt guilty immediately after asking.

  He took the keys out of my hand and opened the door for me. “Well, she was pregnant. And then she wasn’t.”

  “I’m so sorry…”

  “You asked and I answered.” He said matter-of-factly. “Do you live alone?”

  “...Yeah.”

  “Well if you don’t feel good,” He quickly wrote his number on the notepad on the fridge “just call me.”

  “...Thank you.”

  And then he left, just as quickly as he came in.

  A moving truck was blocking my parking spot. I sighed, opening up my bedroom window and preparing myself to yell at the men below to move out of the way, but then I saw him.

  Was that Isaac? That couldn’t be, but sure enough, among the movers, there he was carrying boxes into the building across the street. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his bare arms flexed in the sunlight. He looked up and instantly recognized me.

  “I didn’t know when the right time to tell you that we’re neighbors was.” He admitted.

  “I can barely hear you, let me get downstairs first.” I yelled. I closed my window and got dressed for work, making sure my red tie was sitting straight.

  “...The bed might not fit through the stairs like we thought, we’ll probably have to bring it up through the window” I overheard one of the movers expin to a woman, presumably Isaac’s wife. “And for that we’ll need the crane.”

  “How much more will it cost?” She said groggily, probably waiting for the entire ordeal to be over already.

  Isaac approached me and waved, “Feeling better after yesterday?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry-”

  “Don’t be,” He interjected. “I had fun.” Suddenly, his wife grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her conversation with the mover.

  “I need you to deal with this.” she sighed.

  “What’s the problem here?” He asked the mover. His wife stayed tched onto his arm as they sorted out the situation, occasionally giving her input. I crossed my arms, waiting for the opportunity to ask them to move the truck.

  Their conversation seemed to die down as the mover turned to talk to another. “Excuse me-” I butted in. “I need to get my car out.”

  Isaac’s wife let go of his arm, clearly annoyed. “I’ll go talk to them.”

  “She hates moving,” He shrugged, “it makes her lose her patience.”

  “Totally understandable.” I replied. “Moving is always a nightmare.”

  Isaac smiled, “Pretty much.”

  “You can take your car out now.” she called from the other side of the parking lot.

  “I need to go now.” I told him.

  “You have my number, call me when you’re back from work. By that time we’ll be having our housewarming party.”

  When I got there, I instantly felt bad that I hadn’t brought anything. I had never been invited to a housewarming party before, so I didn’t know you had to bring gifts.

  Isaac’s wife greeted me, bowl in hand. “I’m gd you managed to make it.”

  “Thanks for inviting me.” I replied. “Your home is beautiful, I love the vintage furniture.”

  “Thank you, I pretty much chose everything.” She admitted. “Isaac just kinda just goes along with what I want to buy.”

  “I see.”

  “You need to try this pasta sad I made, I think it turned out great!” She served me a hefty portion out of the bowl she was holding and the minute I put it in my mouth I realised doing so had been a mistake.

  I had to get rid of this food somehow.

  I snuck into the kitchen, discreetly trying to find the garbage can, but then realized there were people around the corner.

  “...You know, the other day, I was talking to Miriam and she told me that you’ve been coming home from work te every day. What are they making you do there?”

  “It’s more like what aren’t they making me do there, they’re working me to the bone.”

  “You can tell them to reduce your hours. Besides Isaac, you know I don’t like to meddle, but it’s a husband’s obligation…”

  “Of course I take care of her, Mom. I give her my money to spend on anything she likes. She has everything she could ever possibly want. What else do I need to do?” He said, exasperated.

  “You need to make love to her, Isaac.” She said, “You need to make her feel loved.”

  “But I do love her.” he pleaded, “I married her, for christ’s sake.”

  “Either way, you can’t let yourself mess this up. She’s a nice girl from a nice family, you know.”

  Isaac sighed, “I know.”

  I ended up finishing that horrible pasta sad myself.

  What would Isaac like as a gift? I wondered, perusing the aisles of the department store. I couldn’t take a look at their kitchen so I had no idea if they had a blender or a mixer. Maybe a food processor would work? Or some kind of juicer?

  I got to the section with the coffee makers. Bingo.

  Something Isaac himself would actually use.

  I had heard recommendations for this specific coffee maker from a coworker, he started using it recently and couldn’t stop raving about how he couldn’t have his coffee any other way now.

  On the way home, I reminisced on how Isaac was in high school: It was like he was gleaming - on the basketball court, in the hallways.

  I wished I could see him like that again.

  I told him on the phone that I was pnning to come but he still seemed surprised when he opened the door for me.

  “You know, I’ve been meaning to get a coffee maker,” Isaac remarked as he accepted my gift. “My old one broke on me.” He quickly plugged it in and started skimming the instructions that came with the box. “Might as well try it now.”

  “You're not gonna make a cup for the missus as well?”

  “She's not home, though I could make one for you.”

  “Alright.” I looked around the house. It barely looked lived in aside from the books strewn on the coffee table. I picked one up. “Are these yours?”

  “Yeah, she hates when I leave them out like this, though.”

  Soon, the coffee was ready. As he handed me the cup, his fingers brushed against mine. “Let’s see how it turned out.” He brought the cup to his lips and took a sip. “Wow, it’s perfect.”

  “I’m gd you like it.” I said, “I’ll wait a bit before I try mine, I prefer it when it’s cooled down a little.”

  “Ah…” He excimed. “You know, I never used to drink coffee back then. Just going on a run would wake me right up. That was until my knee injury,” He took another sip, “but I’m guessing you already knew about that.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard about it.” I said, sitting next to him on the couch. “I didn’t know it still affected you after so long, though.”

  “Well you see, it comes and goes, but I can’t risk tearing it again so I need to always be careful.” He sighed, “Sometimes it feels like nothing went right after that.” He put his cup down on the coffee table. “She’ll kill me if she sees we’re not using coasters-”

  “Want me to go get them?” I asked, not wanting his wife to be upset at him ter.

  “You won’t be able to find them, don’t worry about it.” He answered, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ve been reading this really interesting book recently, do you like mystery novels?”

  “I’ve never been one to read too much, though I’m open to trying.” I replied.

  His eyes lit up. “Really? ‘Cause when I get to read it’s like, the best part of my day.”

  “I see. So what’s this book about, exactly?”

  “Basically there’s been a murder. The main character is this detective, right? So of course he tries investigating the murder, but it’s like someone is trying to cover something up, so he digs deeper, and he ends up finding out things he wasn’t supposed to know.” He expins, “It’s all very interesting, and the pacing’s very nice.”

  “Maybe you could lend it to me when you’re done with it, then? I have a lot of free time when I get home from work most days.”

  “Actually I’m reading the sequel, I can lend the first volume to you now.” He grabbed the book off the coffee table and handed it to me. Just as I went to turn it over he said, “Don’t read the synopsis on the back though, just go into it blind.”

  “Oh okay, thanks.”

  Isaac walked up to the bookshelf and took another book out. “Another good one by the same author is this one,” He handed it to me. “If you like the first book, read this.”

  “Whatever you say.” I told him, waiting for at least a chuckle or something, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

  “You know, you don’t have to keep feeling like that.” I commented.

  “Feeling like what?” He replied

  “What you said earlier, about how you feel like nothing has gone right for you since high school.”

  “I said that?” He questioned, “Oh, yeah. Now I remember.” He leaned back, sinking into the cushions.

  He has never been so close to me. “If it makes you feel better, we could hang out more often,” I felt the heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks, “well, only if you want.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Some days he’d call me and I just knew that there were things behind his words that he couldn’t say. I read the books he gave me and asked for more, we’d get lunch and he’d try not to spoil the endings but eventually he couldn’t help it, so we tried not talking about books.

  We’d talk about everything else but what really mattered, the petty drama at his job, the news, the weather. We’d talk almost every day.

  It was a rainy foggy morning, I usually had to drag myself out of bed on mornings like these, when the rain was pattering on the window and the bnket was so warm inside. I was getting ready for work when I got a call from an unknown number. I hesitantly answered.

  “Hello?”

  I drove, the mechanical voice in my phone taking me through an endless journey with an uncertain end.

  I finally found the room. Isaac was lying in the hospital bed. His face was bruised, probably from the impact of the airbag. His eyes were closed. “How are you doing?” I whispered, not wanting to wake him up if he was asleep.

  His eyes opened to a sliver and then closed again. “I told them to call you.” He breathed in a ragged, pained breath, “They said I fractured a rib.”

  “If it hurts to talk, don’t.” I urged.

  “But I want to talk to you.”

  “You can talk to me ter.”

  “I can’t wait, I’m afraid.” He insisted, “It was like I was in a movie, everything was in slow motion.”

  “Must’ve been terrifying.”

  “Nah, not really.” He smirked, though his hand was shaking ever so slightly.

  “Let me know if you need anything. Do you have your phone?”

  “Yeah, it’s right here” He pointed to the nightstand. There was a spiderweb of cracks across the screen.

  “Can you do me a favor?” He asked, “Can you open the curtains?”

  “Sure.” The sunlight came flooding in, the morning fog having cleared up already.

  He shielded his face with his hand. “Oh wow, I didn’t think it would be this bright.”

  “It seems to have been just a morning rain.”

  He was already feeling better, but the doctor had given it at least a week before he could be discharged. I was getting ready to leave for the night, it was already a quarter to nine, but as I walked towards the door he called out to me.

  “Everything alright?” I asked.

  “She hasn’t come to visit once.” He looked out into the darkness outside the window. I sat back down on the chair next to the bed in silence.

  “I had no idea.” I managed to say. I always tried not to pry too much into his retionship with his wife, especially after what I overheard.

  “I think you had at least some idea.” He smirked, “You’re observant.”

  I put my hand on his, he stared at me through his long shes but didn’t protest. The bruising on his face had subsided, but there was a small scar left under his eye.

  “Was this because of the windshield?” I questioned.

  “What was?”

  I thumbed at his cheek with my other hand. “This right here.”

  “Oh, that? I think so.”

  “You have such long eyeshes for a guy” I thought out loud.

  “Do I? I think they’re normal length.” He replied. I was dangerously close to his face, I suddenly realized.

  “I should really go home.” I blurted out, quickly picking up my bag. As I closed the door behind me, I wondered why my heart was beating so fast in my chest.

  Inserting the key into the lock, I carefully opened the door to Isaac's apartment.

  He had called me earlier that day and told me he wanted me to bring a specific book. The lights were off and I hoped that meant that his wife wasn't home. I tapped around, looking for the light switch on the wall next to the door. Suddenly the light turned on.

  “You know, It’s pretty inconvenient that it’s on the other side of the room.” Isaac’s wife revealed herself from behind the bend of the hallway, “We didn’t notice it before we moved in.”

  “Sorry for intruding-” I quickly apologized.

  “Don’t worry about it. He asked you to get something I’m assuming?”

  “Yeah” I said awkwardly, stuffing the book into my bag.

  “Take whatever you want.” She smiled, “Despite it all, it’s comforting that he’ll always come back to me.”

  Isaac still wasn’t allowed to carry heavy things yet so I took his suitcase out the trunk and carried it up the stairs for him. “It’s nice to be coming back home.” He said over his shoulder as we climbed the stairs.

  “Sometimes I still don’t think of my own apartment as my home, but instead I think of my parents’ house. I mean, I’ve lived there most of my life.” I mused.

  “Yeah that’s normal.” He replied, “To be honest, I don’t know where my home is. I think it’s a feeling I get with certain people.”

  I set his suitcase down, then I came to a realization. “Wait, I’m guessing I should give you this key back now.”

  “Nah, you can keep it, I have an extra one.” He assured me. Then out of the corner of my eye I noticed his wife had come into the room.

  “You’re home.” She stated pinly.

  “I am.” He replied.

  She turned on the TV. “When you unpack your books can you not put them on the coffee table?”

  “Alright.” The air suddenly felt heavy. The TV jabbered on in the background.

  “You got everything you need?” I managed to ask.

  “Yeah, thank you.” he answered.

  I felt her eyes follow me as I went out the door.

  I couldn’t sleep.

  Usually on nights like these, I’d go out onto the balcony overlooking the park and watch the treetops sway. I pulled the sliding door aside; the streetlights cast long shadows across the grass. Then I saw him.

  He held his head in his hands. I called out to him. He looked up to face me, but I couldn’t make out his expression. “Aren’t you cold?” I asked.

  “I’m not used to seeing you from so high up.”

  “Do you want me to get you a bnket?” I asked.

  “Only if you want.” He answered.

  I folded up the bnket that was strewn across the couch and brought it downstairs with me.

  “Look at you, you’re shivering.” I huffed, wrapping the bnket around him. I sat next to him; his eyeshes cast long shadows across his face.

  Silently, he leaned his head on my shoulder. He smelled of aftershave and shampoo. “I wish I could stay here forever.” He whispered.

  We sat there for a while. Eventually, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed and I let my hand caress the softness of his hair.

  “I need to go home.” He told me, his voice still shrouded in sleep.

  “Okay.”

  He’d appear in my dreams: his scent and his hair and his dark haunting eyes. He’d wrap his rge arms around me, and I would lean my head onto his chest.

  I’d always wake up from those dreams and gaze out my window at the two always-empty wicker chairs on his balcony.

  The ornamental potted pnt.

  The small coffee table beneath that potted pnt.

  The other, much rger, potted pnt that sat directly on the tastefully tiled floor.

  Then I’d imagine the way he stirs slightly, still deeply sleeping. His warm feathery breath.

  How it’d feel against my skin.

  I waited in my car for Isaac to finish his doctor’s appointment. I hated the smell of waiting rooms, their general sense of misery.

  “Thanks for waiting.” He entered through the passenger’s side door.

  “How was it?” I asked, turning the key and starting the ignition.

  “Apparently, I’m healing well. I might be able to start lifting things very soon.”

  “That's good. Did he say anything else?”

  “Not really, though he did tell me that I should probably get a flu shot.”

  As I pulled out of the parking lot, I asked, “Do you wanna stop at Arby’s? I’m kinda hungry.”

  “Sure, I could go for Arby’s right now.”

  We approached the drive through, a mild breeze entered as I rolled down the window. “One chicken sandwich,” I said, then turned to Isaac. “What do you want?”

  He hesitated for a moment, “I’ll get the same.”

  I drove to the far end of the lot and took the sandwiches out of the bag. “Which one is yours?”

  He ughed, grabbing the nearest one. “I don’t think it matters.”

  We locked eyes as he took the first bite. I usually don’t like seeing other people eating, but with him I didn’t mind. “How are things?” I asked, “Like, at your job.”

  “Things are going alright, I think. I might be getting that promotion soon.”

  “What would you do with the money?”

  “Hmm… Maybe go on vacation.”

  “With Miriam?”

  “I don’t know…” He set down the empty wrapper of his sandwich and our hands briefly touched. “Maybe with you.”

  We could talk for hours. He’d y on my bed, tracing lines up and down my arm.

  “You remember what I said back then, about how home is a feeling I get with certain people?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I realized that you’re my home.”

  Sometimes I’d fall asleep without noticing and wake up to see him gone.

  The windshield wipers wicked the rain away rhythmically. “They said on the news that this'll be the st rain of the season.”

  “How do they even know things like that?” I wondered.

  “I think they make it up.” Isaac said, “They’re wrong so often.”

  “Don’t they have, like, complex algorithms or something?” I said, “They can’t just make it up…”

  “I guess.”

  “You know, they asked me if I’d like to become a regional manager.”

  “That’s great! Isn’t that what you wanted?” I congratuted. “How’s the pay?”

  “Very good…” He answered solemnly.

  “What’s the hangup then?”

  “It’s across the country.”

  The rain’s gentle taps on the windshield turned violent.

  “What’ll you do?”

  “I don’t know, to be honest…”

  “What does Miriam think?”

  “I haven’t told her yet.”

  He could do whatever he wanted, he owed me nothing.

  But still, something in me wilted.

  I tried not to affect his decision.

  I gave him his space.

  Still, in my dreams, my legs crossed the dark chasm separating his building with mine and I’d unlock his door with the key that he gave me and I’d y in the expanse of his rge loveless bed and I’d nguish in the scent of his sheets.

  In reality, we were two separate men leading two separate lives.

  I awoke to the drumming of rain on my window.

  The real st rain of the season.

  I wanted so badly to see him.

  To make the most mundane of conversation.

  To have my hand gently brush up against his.

  To caress his hair and to breathe his breath and to kiss the drops from his cheek.

  God.

  I walked out into the rain.

  I climbed the stairs.

  I put my key into his lock.

  His bare, empty apartment.

  It's the little things that remind me of him still, the light passing through the leaves on a cool spring day, the books he left in my apartment that he will never come back for, and the sense of dread I feel when I walk past where he and his wife used to live.