this is what I remember: his rare smile, those perfect canine teeth, almost blue in the dark above me. You have no idea he told me that night with his teeth. Everyone smiles, but not like that. He was so good looking, I used to watch him sleeping. What else can I say? I found myself singing along to all the bad pop songs on the radio. That was the winter it snowed and snowed. At night we drove around, mouthing the words, alone in our dream city. I came to know he was fearless about the weather, would drive in anything. I paid close attention to these things. I tried to remember every sentence he spoke, each cotton shirt in his closet, all of the food on his shelf. The night we danced through his kitchen around and around, dizzy in our happiness. His apartment was the only place I felt peaceful; it had good light and a pretty view of the chapel. Pendleton blankets and books. He didn't have a television. On the weekends he faithfully made me breakfast. Remember this, I pleaded: his thick wool socks, the eggs and the toast, the hardwood floors, the albums he gave me. On the cover of one, an abandoned farmhouse standing in a wheat field, ruined by rain. On another, withered flowers, rotting in a vase filled with dirty water. The last one: a thickly framed mirror, blank against dark floral wallpaper. I listened to each of them repeatedly; I laid awake trying to figure it out. Who is this person I am sleeping next to? I wondered. He was all I thought of really, and at night I practiced my remembering: the texture of his sheets, the amber color of his eyes almost yellow at the center near his pupils. The joke he made that morning about a dominatrix and the moon. And those teeth. This was when my love for him started to seem luckless. He asked so little of me, but what he did ask felt impossible. Try to be happy, and smile more. Don't be so reticent. Don't be so dogmatic. Sleep with the lights off. Eat all the foods on your plate. Remember what it's like to love him. Well I had requirements too, you know. Unflinching obedience. Loyalty, until death. Remember that it is possible to feel this way. But I didn't remember. I forgot, nearly everything. When all other memories of him had dissolved, clean off the bone, this is what remained: his teeth. The wolf smile. Years later, still promising to eat me whole.