The knife was sharp. The meat was tender. A butcher by trade, I’m more comfortable cutting the meat than cooking it. But I think I can manage grilling a couple sirloins. I added some charcoal to the grill along with an extra splash of lighter fluid to speed things up. My girlfriend of just over a year would be back in half an hour. With the time crunch it would make more sense to grab some takeout and do this another day, but the chill in the air let me know this may be the last chance to grill this year. I lit the charcoal. The past few months have been rough for her. She was a local reporter trying to make it onto the national stage. Her most recent interview resulted in her crying herself to sleep on the couch, wrapped around a pint of ice cream. That night, I felt conflicted. The woman I loved was in pain, which broke my heart, but I also dreaded the changes her career advancement might bring. I already moved across town to be closer to her. Would I now have to move to a major city? How much more time would she have to spend at work? Why couldn’t she just be happy being a big fish in a little pond? Why’d she have to change everything? Sighing, I laid the steaks on the hot grill. I was going to try and make them Pittsburgh rare, charred on the outside but blue on the inside, in honor of the city her next interview was in. I felt she didn’t consider my feelings, yet I knew I would support whatever decision she made. Honestly, she made me a better person. Thanks to the diet we started—her for the camera and me for solidarity—I was in the best shape of my life, with no more bachelor rolls. I’ll admit it’s kind of funny that when we inevitably cheat on the diet, the drive-through worker sometimes recognizes her. I love how her cheeks flush with embarrassment against her bronze skin. For all these reasons and more, I wanted to make her a gourmet steak dinner. I hoped that the spontaneity would lift her spirits and make her more receptive to hearing my thoughts on the matter. We could have a great life together here if she would focus a little more on us and a little less on her career. While flipping the steaks over, movement out of the corner of my eye startled me. Out of reflex, I palmed a paring knife and turned to see Maria. I didn’t realize how quiet she could be. It made sense since she was so small. “You’re home early.” I said smiling. “What are you doing back here?”, she asked with a confused expression. “I was trying to have dinner done before you made it. Please sit down.” I explained while gesturing to the picnic table. “I don’t want to sit down. I really think you should leave.”, she said sternly. “Look, I know you’re upset about the interview not going how you hoped, but there’s no reason to take that out—” I started, my voice trembling with concern. “How do you know about that? Who are you?” she interrupted, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Don’t act like you don’t know me,” I replied, frustration creeping into my tone. “You did a segment at the grocery store I worked at. We had a connection. I moved across town to be closer to you. We’ve been going to the store, the park, everywhere together ever since.” “Okay. Okay,” she said, holding up her hands defensively. “Did you want to talk about something?” “You can’t leave!” I exclaimed, my voice rising in desperation. “What I mean is, if you don’t take another job, we could have a happy life together. I’ve already given up so much for you.” “I promise I won’t leave,” her voice trembled as she tried to relieve my fears. “What’s my name?” I asked, searching her eyes for sincerity. The look in her eyes told me she didn’t know. I had been wrong about her. She never really saw me, just like the rest. She inhaled to scream. The knife was sharp. The meat was tender.