I saw you at the paint store, he said. You were choosing colors. Talking to some salesman about interiors. Speaking to him with great enthusiasm. Asking him questions about certain reds and yellows, a nice squash color or plum. Did he answer your questions? Put you on the right path? He asked. I’ll bet you stuck with plain old cream white. You were always very vanilla.

I went with lavender, she said. Lavender for the dining room and, yes, plum for the hallway. I haven’t decided on the bedroom yet. Maybe a wine. A burgundy.

Something new, he said. Trying a fresh start. Erasing me. Covering over us, he told her.

Something like that, she responded. Look. I’m not the one who left. You took off. Leaving me with nothing. No money. Bills unpaid. Why did you do it? Had you been plotting this? This escape.

No. In my life, nothing is planned. It just happened.

Falling out of love just happens?

Yes.

They looked at each other. Each pretending they were better off. A masquerade.

He picked up the check. I’ll take care of lunch, he said

Thanks.

Sure.