proof by rearrangement

There were 1600 people at the dinner. No prizes, though, for guessing the two I all but collided with as soon as I walked though the lobby's revolving doors.

The comments on my last post made perfect sense. I have every right in the world to be angry at Steve and Sarah, to hate them, even. But I can't quite manage it and what I feel is sad and empty, as if when I lost them, a chasm opened at the core of my life, an emptiness that nothing will ever heal or fill.

Back in the days when the pain was new, I obsessively read the sonnet sequence in which Shakespeare spins betrayal into iambic pentameter, with poem after poem describing the two people he loves most, the fair man and the dark lady, and how they find something like happiness in one another's arms. But, over time, I've come to realize that the better analogy is geometry, and it seems petty as well as pointless to complain that every right triangle tends to have a hypotenuse.