David McElroy

The question was innocent enough, but it startled me.

“Who are you in love with?” June asked.

I was sitting in a restaurant late Saturday night. Outside, there was heavy rain — along with thunder and lightning — so the place was almost empty. June had sat at a booth next to me to call her husband and children on her break. As she got off the phone and relaxed, she looked over at me and asked her unexpected question.

“What do you mean?” I asked. I can usually talk my way around anything that I don’t want to answer, but this was so unexpected that I didn’t know where to start. I barely know June. She knows almost nothing about me and absolutely nothing about my past. Why had she asked this pointed question?

“You’re unhappy,” she said. “It’s because you love someone or you can’t have someone or something like that. You act all happy and friendly, but sometimes I watch you when you’re quiet and you look like a hurt puppy. And I think you love someone. Did she break your heart?”

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