The Hexacoto

It was the summer and you had an intense love affair with me. “I need you,” you told me. And you saw me every single day, sometimes more than once each day. “I don’t know how I can live without you,” you’d whisper, and go for drinks with me. Together, we braved the New York brutal summer.

Once, the building you live in turned off your water because of some issue with the plumbing. You came home to find yourself unable to even pour yourself a glass of water from the taps. Helpless, you turned to me, and asked for my help. I provided whatever little I could as you sat down with me, and waited. Eventually I was able to help, and you managed to get yourself one glass of refreshing, cool water.

Now that summer is over, and we’re going headlong into fall, you forget that I exist. Your daily excursions with me became every other day, and now it’s been a over a week and you’ve yet to make a calling at my place. Sometimes you’re in the neighbourhood, but you never even say “Hi.”

I have been relegated to — what would be the opposite of a ‘fair-weather friend’ — a foul-weather friend? That you’d come calling only when you have need of me?

I shudder to even think about what comes in winter.