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Tell it Again, Please?

T.L. Tomljanovic

“The day I met your mother was the worst day of my life. I’d been fired from my job. Rent was due on an apartment I couldn’t afford. My boyfriend dumped me.” 


“Your jerk boyfriend.” Brown eyes glare from underneath a mess of covers and stuffies. 


Smothering a smile, I brush the hair from Leo’s face. “My not nice boyfriend. I walked for hours until it started to rain. It didn’t just rain a little. It rained…” 


“Ducks and beavers!” Leo could care less about cats and dogs. 


“I ran to the nearest shop to buy an umbrella, but when I reached for my wallet…” 


“It was gone!” Chubby hands spread theatrically wide and Leo’s eyes bug out of his face. 


“No money, no jacket, no prospects. I laughed until I cried, and that’s when I heard it.” 


Leo scooches to the edge of the bed. 


“A voice behind you!” 


“Yes.” Not just any voice. A sound as unmistakable as a fingerprint. A low, throaty rasp that hollered at the TV during a Canucks playoff game, belted the blues during family karaoke night, and whispered I love you. “And what did the voice say?” 


Leo’s eyes flick left over my shoulder. I glance up at my wife of six years standing in the hallway, patiently waiting, still backing me up. More laugh lines, silver threads her hair, but she still has the same strong hands. Then gripping your stroller. Now brandishing an umbrella. Still the same voice, velvet banded over iron as she sings out the final line of our how-we-met story. “Can I buy you an umbrella? They’re two for one.” 




T.L. Tomljanovic is a freelance writer living in British Columbia, Canada. Her work has been published in the Globe and Mail, Carousel, and Flash Fiction Magazine. You can find her on Twitter @TLTomljanovic and

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