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The reason Wynn and I chose to live together had a lot to do with the fact that we didn't really know each other.  No messy friend-awkwardness when the electric bill is late, you  know ?  

But three months later, we were inseparable.  And three months after that, we were sneaking away from our boyfriends to spend weekends lost in each other, leaving them voicemails from airports and showing up again with new tattoos.  

When I moved out, I don't know whose heart was breaking harder.  I was down to the last of the big items, looking at my empty room and casting sad eyes over the kitchen.  The counter where I taught her how to cut a mango inside out.  The stove where we danced while we fried chicken for her sleeping boyfriend.

A lump was forming in my throat that I couldn't seem to swallow past, and my voice cracked as I tried to make flippant jokes about it not being that big a deal, really.  She stopped me, held me...  and gave me the most tender, intimate, loving kiss I have ever experienced.  Her mouth was warm and soft, and her heart was beating slow and steady, reassurance and an anchor in one.