Over brioche and coffee we talked about our dreams.

Strolls in sunflower fields, midnight dances in the kitchen, a honeymoon every night… a blissful family.

Just you plus me and when the time was right maybe a little one, perhaps three.

I shouldn’t have answered my phone, not to an unknown number.

I usually never do.

But I did.

It’s a harsh reality to be the last one to know your boyfriend has a wife.

I wanted you to deny it— no, I needed you to deny it.

Don’t make me face reality.

The cup is cracked.

The coffee is cold,

The bread is stale.

We were doomed to fail.

You knew it and she did too.

I wish I wasn’t the idiot who hadn’t had a clue.