When I see my friend’s little girl in the produce aisle, she beams, “I’m happy. I have new red tights and a boyfriend!” We’re standing between the twin peaks of apples and tomatoes, light shining off their taut skins. She does not know that she will spend her whole life at the mercy of the opening and closing of the delicate mechanism of her heart. Just this morning, I ran into an old lover. When he kissed my cheek, I inhaled his scent and was thrown back to a time when all we wanted was to fit completely inside each other’s bodies, something we took as seriously as engineers contemplating how to land a rocket on a moon of Jupiter. And sometimes we succeeded, and for a moment the universe seemed to balance on a fulcrum, the slight wobble of the earth’s orbit steadied. How loyal the heart is, a stray dog. Today, when my ex turned and walked into the crowd, all I could do was stand and watch as mine trotted after him down the long sidewalk. And then he rounded the corner and disappeared.