Love, Sophie

—an excerpt—

I’ve never had to sign a lease. I’ve managed this far without one until now. I’ve gone from a bedroom in the family home, to a shared dorm room in first year university, to the top floor of an elderly professor’s house, to a brief return engagement back at Mom and Dad’s, to the apartment of Sophie Galois, where the word ‘engagement’ has not yet entered the discussion.
Yet here it is, staring me in the face, a lease bearing my name, typed out in capital letters: EVAN OWEN PENRYTH.

The lawyers in the room have taken the appropriate pains to call out the style of the typeface with a name: ALL CAPS—as if a name summonses, from a dark corner of the legal world, a presence that ensures moments of significance are not overlooked. As if spelling my name in ALL CAPS was the important point of this agreement. I am considering asking why my name has been entered first, before Sophie’s. SOPHIE MARIE GALOIE. Not only have the lawyers named her after me, they’ve misspelled her name—a bit shocking given the fact that it will be a Galois who will be paying the bill. They probably put my name first because it’s easier to spell (though barely), and I warm to the thought that this placement is a reflection of the fact that Sophie should have the last word in all of this. After all, her mother is paying the bill.