Photo Story: Seasonal Monogamy

At the park we watch the sunset turn muddled purple, like a bruise.

He says, “Did you know ducks are only partners for a season?”

I shake my head and tug off an oily hunk of croissant, tossing it to the birds at the edge of the water. I know I shouldn’t, bread is bad for their stomachs, but I do it anyway, watching the feverish scramble for crumbs.

A phone buzzes, his wife, silenced but thrumming alive between us.

My eyes lock on a luminescent green duck floating across the water. I can’t tell if he’s coming or going.