Crusher

It was three weeks since our superfluous break up. After five years of greatness I kept expecting to smell her in the morning, taste her in the afternoon, and love her for the rest of our lives.

I lifted Crusher from the fish bowl. The slick turtle crept along my palm, too curious for its own good. Whether it was male or female didn’t matter; I respected its privacy. I stroked the armored back of the pleasantly dull reptile bastard, envying the thickness of the shell. I hoped my skin and soul would grow as malleable, but if I wasn’t feeling pain then what was the point of being human. God would have made me a turtle, and the dismay would have rocked the clouds because I wanted to be a Komodo dragon.

We wanted to still be together. Love wasn’t enough; it was only the beginning. Time, biology, and faith had betrayed us – so I believed at the time – but Crusher, Crusher kept on probing the surroundings, slowly, thoroughly, care freely.  

She had her new life now. I had Crusher.