You proposed over a plate of calamari. You found a squid head ring big enough to slip over my large knuckle and asked me to travel the seas with you. I nibbled it off before saying yes. I told everyone while you held my hand and looked out towards the sea we’d marry on a boat with everyone in scuba gear. Dinner would be a turf and turf buffet and all the drinks would sparkle with champagne. You found a boat for us to live on. Twenty feet and in need of TLC. You set to work. I fetched supplies. I patched holes while you stood at the helm and told me of our future. I told you the tank was rusted. You said everything would be okay. I told you about the barnacles. You ate fresh shrimp from a friend. I told you you had brought me out of my shell. You told me I was an anchor that needed to be released.

I’ve never eaten calamari again.