Each had fallen into their respective arrangements having decided independently that there was no greater match for them in life. When anyone asked Dale if he had dated actual women before making the decision to marry a paring knife, he would look at that person with such incredulity that the stranger would feel as if they had been rude to inquire. Dale did love his paring knife. They had their problems, like any couple. Obviously, Howard admitted, a bag of frozen tilapia was different in many ways from a woman, though in many ways it was the same. * * * Howard arrived early to Dale’s apartment and found the man finishing breakfast. The paring knife was propped up against a book on the table and Dale’s galoshes were next to the door. “Morning,” Dale said. “Coffee?” Howard accepted a cup and waited at the table. “Warm out,” he said. He liked to keep talking to a minimum until they got on the water. “I know it,” Dale said from the other room. “We went on a walk and watched the sun rise across the field.
