We sat at a bench along the riverfront and watched the sky close-in on us. There had actually been sun earlier that day but not much. Chloé's disposition matched the low gray ceiling.  I had decided to savor the last few moments of our relationship. She let her jet brown hair fall over her face and glasses. There was a flock of geese about a hundred yards away. Their distant honks penetrated the silence.

Despite the fact that I had fallen for her in a matter of weeks, I felt eternally bound to this girl. I realize now that what I had done was fallen in love with the image of her and not the person she was. These cute little girls were everywhere. They knew more about music, art, and society than I ever would. Chloé had all my favorite records and played drum machine in chillwave band called the Recent Demise of Time. She had a battleship tattooed on her right bicep and Buddy Holly frames. I ignored her inexperience with relationships and told myself her heart was an empty canvas. But that was a repugnant and classically male thing to do.

She finally turned and looked me in the eye. She opened her mouth to say something but I shushed her.