It was the Tuesday she texted me "I'm so glad I met you." Nothing was wrong. Everything had, by every measurable thing, gone right.
Within two days I had a list. The way she said certain words. How she texted too soon after I texted. A flatness I had not noticed before and now could not stop noticing.
I told myself I was being honest. The list felt like clarity. I broke it off on a Saturday with the calm of someone who had thought it through, and I felt relief, and I went home, and I slept ten hours.
Six months later I understood what had happened. The list was the cover. The Tuesday was the threshold. She had given me the one thing my body did not know how to take, and my body had taken her away from me before I could find out what she would have done with it.