The Pacific Northwest’s snow
melted, ushering in an early summer.
The Seattle rain replenished the evenly cut
backyard grass.
Ethan dreamed of falling
into more than a house of cards.
He tossed on his bed and turned,
mumbling his drugs of choice.
It started with a hit of Allison.
And Laura hit the spot like a pill.
Sophie didn’t need a syringe
to collect his senses and boil his lust
like a witch with a black hood.
And Brin needed him after dark
so her husband wouldn’t know.
Ethan chased women
but found no love.
And the mutual feelings hung on conditions
that drowned in guilt.
Ethan wanted to draw confirmation
through his biased frustration
that true love existed.
For whom he’d fall, he didn’t know.
But he’d spend his nights
waiting for life’s meaning.
His mother said the Bible
had much to say about life
and how to live it with answers
that she didn’t understand.
Ethan put his hands behind his head as a pillow
and stared at the ceiling fan,
cutting stale air on a May night.
After college and landing a career,
he lived alone, just outside of Seattle.
All of this learning just to find out,
he didn’t know a damn thing.
Ethan’s mind, like a restless sea,
churned with thoughts about his daily routine,
each wave crashing against the shores
of his consciousness.
Nothing changed.
Everything remained the same.
In the morning, Ethan pressed a button,
a green light turned on, and ground beans
warmed and trickled into a pot.
Ethan turned the TV on with the sound
off as he read the Seattle Times.
If the breaking news ticker flashed across the screen,
he’d turn on the volume.
Ethan pondered life, God,
and romance, and wondered why he didn’t have them.
Before heaven gave him an answer,
he’d check his phone and commute to work.
Ethan fixed his red necktie
and straightened his white dress collar.
He looped his brown leather belt through his tan slacks.
The subway had people. Sketchy people and mysterious folks. If Ethan lucked out, he’d see a cute woman who worked at the same firm.
Ethan folded his arms.
“Everything okay?” a woman said over the clickety-clack of the subway wheels.
Ethan’s thoughts guided him back to the present. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve been staring at me for half a minute.” She tucked her long, dark bangs behind her ear. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah…” Ethan arched a brow. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“It’s not every day that a cute guy eyes me,” she said, smiling.
“Did you say—”
“Yes, cute guy.” She winked and played with her necklace.
“I’m Ethan.” He offered his hand.
“I know who you are.” She gave him an alluring gaze.
Ethan wrinkled his forehead. “And you are?” he said, tilting his head.
“Scarlett,” she said, shaking his hand.
Her soft hand, Polo perfume,
and deep hazel eyes drew him in.
And they fell for more than a feeling.
Love built brick upon boring brick
to shade in the colors of the building
blocks that passion ceased, but romance
warmed their icy hearts,
which meant more to them than a feeling.