I don't know what woke me up tonight. Perhaps the warmth beside me vanished at some point, and the biting early winter wind seeped in to rouse me. My lovely—or more accurately, my incredibly kind—lover, who should have been lying right next to me, was gone. I slowly opened my eyes and headed toward the place he often visited, a spot he'd mentioned since we first met. This wasn't the first or second time; it had happened quite often before.

My black sedan coughed to life and set off. My heart ached at the thought of him walking alone in this freezing weather without a car. After driving for a few minutes, I got out, pulled my clothes tight against the wind, and walked toward the spot where my partner usually sat looking down at the lake.

And he wasn't there. To be precise, my lover was nowhere to be found, and instead, some old man was holding my lover's glasses and asking me a question. What did he say? "Is this your lover?" I said no. They were just his glasses, not the man himself. He pulled one of my lover's shoes out of the water and asked again. It was a similar question. Again, I said no. Then the old man smiled, laughing about what a good and honest child I was.

I was about to reach for my phone to call the police when the old man pulled my lover—soaking wet with hair plastered to his face—out of the water! Startled, I rushed toward him.

Before I could say a word, the old man smiled and vanished leisurely into the water. I am left sitting there blankly, staring down at the hands of two lovers, one held in each of my own.- - - -