1-Capitalization
Why did I never realize the sky is punctuation? I claim to love English, to love sunsets, to dream
of becoming an editor; why didn’t I notice the similarities?
“The title case of the sky? The sunrise is like a capital letter at the start of a sentence?” Jason asks distractedly, fidgeting with his lightweight running shorts, not even looking at me.
Does he not see I hate going on these morning runs, that I hate waking up when the sky is still an
inky black? Does he realize I only do this for him, because it’s the only time he seems to have for me anymore?
Of course not, of course he doesn’t. Jason wordlessly heads to the shower, me to my English
lecture. At least he responded to what I said this time.
11- Comma
It wasn’t supposed to be rainy today, right? Am I that unaware, not even able to read a weather
forecast correctly?
My roommate, Maggie, reassures me that no, it will not be rainy, and smiles vapidly. We drift languidly to our lecture. I check my phone; Jason hasn’t texted, I’m sure it’s because he’s busy at his chemistry lab. Or is that tomorrow?
“Are you really going to do it? Actually break up with Jason? He’s not good for you, ok? Do you
promise to try?”
Maggie wants me to leave him, and I also mostly want myself to do it. At this point, Jason seems
to largely view me as another checkbox on his endless to-do list rather than a girlfriend. The leaden gray clouds, supposedly not full of rain, sprinkle on us as I pause to think.
What about the time Jason stayed up all night, even though he had early classes the next day, just because? Was that night really almost two years ago? When had it become the exception for him to acknowledge me? Am I right to think that the unanticipated rain cloud, making me pause to think, is exactly like a comma?
111- Semicolon
Will he show up? Is it just my imagination, or do the scurrying crowds of people, ant-like with
hustle, seem not to notice me? Why isn’t he replying to my texts?
I am not, by nature, a writer. Still, though, I entered, and, to my surprise, won a short story contest. Ghost-like, invisible, all the attendees seem drawn to every table but mine. Maggie made a brief appearance, complimented my work as if she hadn’t already read it seven times, stiffened when I told her Jason still hadn’t arrived. He promised to be here, but with just thirty minutes left, there’s no sign of him.
‘It’s raining; I didn’t think you’d mind?’ My leaden heart, what sound does it make as it falls to the ground as I read Jason’s text?
All around me, people laugh and talk and nod, not noticing the tattered carnage of my face. Someone comes up to ask me about my story—a short, humorous piece about a couple meeting against all odds. I stumble through, almost convincing myself it’s ok without him; then, I glance to my right at another table. A boyfriend rubbing his girlfriend’s hand proudly as she pitches her story to a big group, smiling at her the whole time. Through the crushing resistance of fading love, I pick up my phone.
IV- Quotation and Question Marks
“You need to talk to me? Things aren’t working out, things need to change? What do you even mean?”
Jason reads my texts back to me lethally, like they leave a sour tang in his mouth. He punctuates
the quotations with swift flicks of his wrists, air quotes. Jason’s eyes are narrowed, he’s confused why he’s wasting his time at the beach with me when he’d much rather be doing anything else. He doesn’t, I suddenly realize, even think I would break up with him.
“Do you know what this is about?”
I watch the slow realization settle in, the two bushy lines of his eyebrows like defiant caterpillars.
He breathes once, twice.
“Are you breaking up with me?”
V- Ellipses
How many rainy days transform, unexpectedly, to sunnier ones? How many sunsets are joined with the ethereal gleam of a rainbow?
Jason’s face, I notice, is handsome in the almost-dusky glow. His jawline looks sharper in the light, his eyes a deeper shade of melancholic hazel. Jason looks at me, just looks, as the sun slowly slaloms, slinking under the embrace of the horizon. And of course, like a punch to my heart, I still love him.
What should I do? How is it possible to still love someone who puts in such little care in return…or, more accurately, how could I tolerate staying with someone who doesn’t love me enough?
“Jason…yes.”
For just one moment, we stand stock still in the ellipses of twilight.
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