A red turtle neck that fit snug enough to outline the slight definition on my shoulders. A spray of Dolce & Gabbana cologne. A gold plated wrist watch she had gotten me for my birthday last year. My eyes cut an angle in the reflection of the mirror to find Stacy fixing her heels just outside the bathroom door. Our eyes locked for a split second. “You know, our second date was your brother’s New Years party…You remember that?” She said, her attention still fixated on the hinge of her shoes. “Yeah — Yeah, of course. Green dress with the strawberry earrings. Leather boots to go with it. How could I forget?” And really, how could I. Her laugh was infectious that night, and it was then that I realized that if love at first sight wasn’t real, love at second was. I smiled at her through the reflection. She laughed softly. “Five years…time flies, huh?” She said. I stayed quiet. “Love you.” She blew me a kiss from the bedside, and I blew one back. I don’t remember when those three words became two. I don’t remember when she stopped complimenting my cologne or giving a playful “wow” when the clothes I wore highlighted the muscles on my arms, either. Sometimes I wonder when we stopped being impressive to each other. Her smile just feels like another smile, and it makes this home feel haunted. It makes me wonder if true love is real or if somewhere along the lines it’s replaced with complacency. I fix my belt, going up a notch from last I remember. “You too,” I tell her. “You ready?” “Yeah,” she said. She reached for my hand, so I held hers, worried we would feel the emptiness in each others’. The full moon hid in the reflection of our rear view mirror. We drove off, three hours from celebrating a new beginning.