“You’re in bad shape,” she had told him.

“And you’re in too good a shape for me to trust you.”

“Great. Then we fit.”

From then on, they stayed together.

Not in the romantic way people write on cards. In the other way. The real one. With gas stations at three in the morning, motel rooms that smelled like bleach and infidelity, fights over money, stolen kisses inside cars that should already have been burned, with a love that never once had a life plan and for that exact reason endured.