it’s a shock, but not entirely unexpected. because she is all lines and circles and i am triangles and squares. i can’t really blame you for lines-circles; she is beautiful and wonderful and everything i am not. i would want her too, if i were you. but it’s still not okay and it still hurts so i think we are just about done. but before you go i have to tell you. i met her once, even before you. she was bright eyed and shining. she still is. so i am telling you: you cannot do to her what you have done to me. because she is soft curves and endless horizons. i am sharp edges and harsh angles, with you always cutting yourself on the corners. you cannot tell her about how you can’t wait to see her in her wedding dress and how you don’t think she should wear white because it’s too plain and not good enough for her. how you can’t imagine that she could be any more beautiful but you know she will be, coming down the aisle. you can’t tell her about the house with the red door. you can’t tell her that Alexander is your favorite name so you’ll have two, one for each and July is a strange name, he’ll probably get made fun of at school. you can’t tell her that you heard somewhere that Maine is a good place to raise a family and you want to eat lobster everyday, so the house with the red door will be there; July and Alexander will play in the yard. you can’t promise her that when you come home from work, before anything else, you will just hold her. because these are our things. these things are meant for Triangles and Squares. she deserves things meant for Lines and Circles. so start over with lines-circles and don’t worry that our almost life won’t remember you, because I will.