Romance aside, I saw him first walking by the river. I only remember the time because I was late for work. It was my usual state so I was in no rush despite the time on my watch. Ten hours pouring 'coffee or tea?,' steaming my brains to a proper mush left me without much of a sense of urgency. Bills had to be paid because living is never free. Nothing that means anything ever is. I never took the job too seriously. If I did, what could I expect? A promotion to a manager? Then not only would I have to work harder, I would have to worry about work when I was away from it. As I said, I never meant to take it too seriously.

She huddled in her black coat as she cut through the mist and the rain by the river. She glanced at her watch and walked a bit faster. A little kick and the ducks in front of her scurried away. The pavement by the river was deserted that afternoon, not surprising due to the weather. When the sky falls down the inhabitants of the town stay in, save for those that are late to work. And one other: he stood beyond the benches, looking over the railing at the river. He absently held his umbrella at an angle so that the rain fell still on his clothes. He did not seem to mind; he was engrossed with the raindrops battering the river. She screwed up her face about the one by the railing's daftness and continued on to her job, late.

I saw him again a few days later--the wet one, I called him. He had just stood by the railing, looking at the water. Which wouldn't have been odd if it had not been raining. He walked by the window of the cafe twice before entering. Everyone else stays inside when it rains, but he goes out. That day the air had turned warm, and he came inside. He ordered tea and paid with change, counting each coin as he slid them across the counter. Jennifer mimicked with packets of artificial sweeteners, exaggerating each action. So I laughed, then Jennifer laughed, and his face turned reddish. I suppose mine did too. Jennifer said that it did, but I never much believed what she said.

Her black coat was unbuttoned and hung open. Off the river came a breeze that blew her coat out like a balloon. She put her hands into the pockets to keep the coat around herself. Warmer, that day, but not so warm that a coat could be left at home. The riverside pavement was crowded with people strolling from shop to shop; she stayed her course. She hurried to her job as they were all off work. She took her hand from her pocket to glance at her watch, and then walked a bit faster. As she passed one bench, her pace slowed. He was there again. She walked around to the front of the bench and sat, leaving enough space for another person to fit between herself and him.

--Is this seat unoccupied? I mean, may I sit down? Hello, my name is Christine. I wanted to apologize for the other day at the cafe. We weren't laughing at you. It's just Jennifer, the other girl. She tells these stories, funny stories.

He had looked up from his book. --No, I didn't think you were laughing at me. Why did you think I was upset?

--Your face turned red.

--Did it? It must have been the... heat.

--Yes, probably. So you weren't upset?

--No.

--I didn't really think so.

--Then why are you apologizing?

--I thought that was the proper thing to do. I was just trying to be nice. I should have been at work nearly an hour ago. If you don't appreciate this apology, I will be going.

--I didn't mean it like that.

She stood up from the bench and walked away quickly. A duck crossed her path on the pavement. It narrowly missed her kick at it. She did not look back at him; his eyes followed her until she turned the street corner, lost behind the crowd.

Beams of light fell through the leaves of tree and between the roofs of buildings as the sun set. Everything reflected an orange tint; everything was golden. He was still sitting on the bench looking over the river. The fascinating part about water, he thought, is that it can act both solid and immaterial. His notebook was littered with scribbles of the river in its margins. He had once attempted to compile a list of other things that had the same qualities as water. He could really only think of one thing. What was solid and immaterial? Love, as it crushes you beneath in that glorious way it does, and as it disappears all too easily. He thought he had been in love once, and had told his love those three words. She left him soon after, scared of all the meanings of his declaration. He scribbled in his notebook, love is an ideal, but water necessity.

He turned his head and saw Christine walking past the bench. He stood to talk to her.

--Christine, I wanted to apologize for earlier. You are crying.

--No, I'm not.

--You are; your eyes are red and there are tears on your face. Will you sit?

They sat together on the bench with little space between themselves.

--Why are you crying? Do you want to talk about it?

--No. Yes. I was fired. I've been turning up late; Jennifer, that other girl, told the boss. It was a job I never meant to take too seriously, but I don't think I could find another. I don't have much saved, I've got some bills to pay. It didn't like it, but it was still my job. Why am I telling you this? I don't even know your name.

--It's Marc.

She put her face in her hands and continued to cry. He put his arm around her; her body tensed. He took his arm away. She lifted her head and looked at him, eyes red and hair a mess in the wind.

--You can leave your arm around me.

I had never thought something like this would happen to me. He walked me back to my apartment that night. Then he always seemed to be walking me back to my apartment. I couldn't find another job, but he offered to let me stay with him for a bit. It wasn't much of a choice since I couldn't make rent. It was a matter of convenience.<p>
We had our first kiss. I can't remember whether he or I initiated it. A kiss is still a kiss. I read in his notebook that he called it a relationship. I just enjoyed the challenge and the thrill of being with someone new. I wouldn't have called it a relationship. What could I expect from that? A worry or a heartbreak? As I said, I never wanted to take it too seriously.

He held me in his arms one night; each body had learned its place against the other. The stars put themselves out one by one, and the sky turned to black. And the three words he said fell sweetly and heavily onto the sheets; my reply just passed lightly from my lips. Everything changed from a laugh to seriousness. His arms were pushing the air from my lungs. Tomorrow this would have to end; it had gone too far when it moved from an amusement to a matter of the heart. I can leave my heart out of matters that aren't too serious. And nothing ever really is.

In the morning she stepped from the door to the pavement. She raised her arm to glance at her watch. Her arm paused mid-air, then wiped her eyes. With her duffel over her shoulder, she buttoned her black coat and started down the street, kicking at a rock in her path.