We met at a law school mixer, but I remembered him because of the rain. Me, walking through the sticky summer drizzle. Him, driving by, backing up, and offering me an umbrella. A real-life Southern Gent in a Toyota Tacoma. Four Mardi Gras, three apartments, two cities, one Jazz Fest, and a million memories later, I’m labeling boxes. Mine, filled with pots, pans, and the pictures that never quite made our house a home. His, packed with the crockpot, liquor, and poker set we never used. Six years together, and it’s come down to this: Who gets the Zulu coconuts?
Amanda Callais is an emerging writer and voting rights attorney based in Washington, D.C. Her work has appeared in The Sun.