She told him to hit the road and he did, literally, burning his palm. This was part of the problem or the entire problem depending on perspective. She cultivated askew, flattered herself with vintage lace and broke into hives with no encouragement. He was dashing in some ways, dull in others. Impossible to predict which made for flutters in social situations. She drew on cocktail napkins and he provided captions. Once that had seemed enough, more than, when cleverness came to call. She was an x,y,z kind of girl although it had taken years of practice. He stumbled around L, M, N, O, never quite reaching P and sometimes scrambling. He owned three dictionaries and kept one in the bathroom. She’d been a spelling champion at the county level. Neither could tell a joke adequately. After the relationship ended, he found god. She was married on a wet April afternoon and prepared for disappointment. He sent a card, a milky photo of lilies of the valley with a gold border and the sentiment, “Best wishes on your wedding day.” Feeling devilish, he signed it ‘fondly’, thinking it might confuse her.