I smelled the roses before I saw him.Sweet and heavy, that overripe florist smell that clings to the back of your throat. I was halfway up the walkway, keys already out, my feet aching in shoes that had stopped fitting right a week ago, when it hit me. My steps slowed on their own.Max was standing outside the building.He had a bouquet in one hand, a huge one, two dozen at least, red ones. The same red he'd bought me on our first anniversary, back when he still remembered anniversaries. His tie was loosened. His hair was a mess, like he'd been dragging his fingers through it for hours.He looked up and his whole face broke open."Anna."I stopped where I was. Ten feet of cracked concrete between us, and I wanted every inch of it."How do you know where I live?"It came out flat. Not the question I'd meant to ask, but the only one that mattered. I had never told him. I had never told anyone but my mother, and I hadn't even done that."It doesn't matter." He took a step toward me, the
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