I Googled His Wife Before the Third Date
I knew her coffee order from Instagram. I still met him at the hotel. I told myself knowledge was protection. It wasn't.
Her smile is in every photo—birthdays, beaches, anniversaries.
I memorized her face like homework.
He said he was leaving her. Men say weather.
I met him anyway because wanting doesn't respect research.
After, in the Uber, I looked her up again.
She posted a story: date night at the place we had lunch.
I am not the villain in their album. I am the blur outside the frame.
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