There’s a universe where we have four dogs and a small 17th floor apartment in downtown Chicago and there’s one where we’re childhood friends playing tag in the cul de sac. There’s a universe where we’re strangers pressed up against each other in the crowded elevator of a Wall Street investment firm and there’s a universe where I sit beside you in English class and memorize the way your brows furrow when you’re talking about Hemingway. There’s a universe where all we do is exchange a shy smile as I bump into you on my way off the subway and one where we’re celebrating our 45th anniversary over a slice of apple pie from the small diner across town. There’s a universe where we meet in a basement lit with Christmas lights when you sit down next to me on the couch with the leather peeling off and I run my fingers through your curls while some boy stumbles into the coffee table and spills his beer. There’s a universe where you set my favorite sweater on fire and one where you finally apologize for the lies and the yelling and the holes in the wall, and, of course, there’s this universe, where nothing ever goes the way it should.