Tetris Love Story Not long after I was placed she became the new upstairs neighbor: I called her “Elle”. Long lined limbs, exact right angles, I had never seen a lady so perfect. Hours seemed I introduced minutes as we her and she discussed our instantly fit. mutual loves of the Arika in with our, Rotation System, vertices, entire row. and western films. I paused outside when I walked her to the door, she kissed me for the first time. Firm mouths and tangled arms moved as we lingered in each other’s arms until Mr. T stepped out of his apartment, cleared his throat, and made his way to the stairs. Elle’s fingers trembled as she fit her key in the door lock. Over the next few plays Her cotton candy We became inseparable. pink lips turned up Even Z, the neighbor in as she asked me in. the space beside me stopped warning me about the evils of marriage and asked me when the date was.
The first thing that disappeared were her legs. She woke up; they were gone. She sobbed on my chest. I held her under the purple comforter, careful to avoid squared-off, bluing nubs, writhing like dying eels. Her hips were next. “No children,” her voice was sad and deflated like the tire of the bike that I crashed into a barberry bush when I was a child. I smoothed a curl behind her ear and waited for warm tears. She just laid there watching reruns of Judge Judy and All My Children. Z said that happened sometimes. Women disappear, leaving behind body parts like forgotten memories. “Cherish what time she’s got left, boy.” He patted my shoulder with a calloused, grease stained hand, leaving my head swimming with thoughts of aliens, a catholic God, and conspiracy theories of a government that took away decision making control of our bodies from us. Nothing happened in the following weeks. I woke up every morning and checked to make sure every body part that was left was accounted for. We thought it over. She would be okay. The television was turned off, and she sat for hours on the balcony in the wheel chair Mr. T brought her from after his mother’s hip surgery. She laughed and then cried when I pulled the glittering diamond from the pocket in my blue and red Superman pajama bottoms and slipped it on her trembling left hand. The next morning, I woke to sunlight and silence. Beside me an empty pair of pajamas in the indention where she had slept.