When Victor left he took the George Forman grill. All of his philosophy books were still in a stack beside the nightstand. The Tibetan prayer flag was still strung across the window in the bedroom, right where he put it when he moved in. The scarf that Kelly knit him last winter was on the bottom of the laundry basket. That aroma therapy eye pillow that his peace corps friend sent. The “This mug says nothing about me” mug was still in the kitchen, but the George Forman was gone.
“Wasn’t he a vegetarian?” her sister asked.
“Yeah–I mean, no. He was a pescitarian.
“What’s that mean?”
“He eats fish, but no other meats.”
“Oh, I never thought about using the Foreman for salmon!”
“I think he used it to grill zucchini actually.”
“I heard Mariah Carrey does that too.”
