February 20, 2011
For months after he broke up with me, the dotted lines that tracked his movement around my apartment (like the route of Little Jeffy through his Family Circus neighborhood) still looked freshly painted. I took care not to smudge them for fear of being unable to preserve the paths. Now, eight months after his last visit, I have to squint to detect traces. If I slightly blur my vision, I'll see a squiggly outline of his body on the sofa, like heat rising from the pavement in summertime. When my new boy is here, though, all I see is him.