It had been nearly fourteen years, but there you were on my morning commute. On your way to work like nothing had happened. Both of us on our ways to work as if nothing had happened. You looked good ... [+]
Susan Fuchtman writes poetry and short stories. Her work can be found in Plume, Emerge, Stonecrop Review, Stone of Madness, Reckon Review, and elsewhere. She currently resides in Iowa City, Iowa. @susanfuchtman "Paris Street; Rainy Day" is in Short Circuit #13, Short Édition's quarterly review.
There's a painting at the Chicago Institute of Art by Gustave Caillebotte titled Paris Street; Rainy Day. I used to go and look at it every Thursday. Thursday, because that's the day with the fewest visitors. I'd been there so many Thursdays that there were little depressions in the floor where I always stood. And here's the thing: I loved–love–Suzette. She's the woman in the painting, with her arm looped through her lover's. Her lover is named Leon. He's a foul thing, rich and arrogant and empty. On the far right is Suzette's husband, Armand, who's returned early from a business trip. All you