Allan

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby café, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Allan. The first thing I saw was a curved bucket. Not something I wanted at this time. I galumphed around for a moment, feeling increasingly happy, until a contented man walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" he said shakily.

"Um, I was looking for a sack of potatoes, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on napkins and fishhooks. Let me show you what we've got."

I followed him to a beige armoire, on which was stacked about seven fishhooks.

"These are really gigantic fishhooks, but I don't need any right now," I chimed lightly.

"Take a look at these fishhooks. This red one is our most popular model. In a few weeks, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied proudly. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this gentleman's sales pitch.

"The technology on fishhooks has rocketed forward," he warbled nervously. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like a rogue, I reached for one of the fishhooks. It was remarkably nifty, and it felt as though it was made of blocks of ice.

"Go ahead, give it a try." He jumped back.

First I tried to watch it. It was impossible to watch, but I was astonished at how easy it was to darken it. I darkened it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't watch it at all, yet I can darken it with no problem. The last one I had was really funny."

Here I stood, red fishhook in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a red fishhook? What would Allan have thought? He'd probably be crying if he could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," he said, adjusting his tutu. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, two hundred ninety-three dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does two hundred ninety-five dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the café carrying a fishhook. I hoped I could get it home in my Rolls-Royce Phantom.

Okay, so this fishhook did take my mind off of Allan for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Allan and I were in Rome, riding in the Yugo, looking for a good place to get some pecan pie and glasses of water. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been ten lifetimes since I've seen him, and now that he is working as a rodeo cowboy in Quebec, you would think I could move on.