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new life on the side.
He started packing.
Watching him dismantle himself from my space wasn’t dramatic.
It was quiet.
Drawers opening.
Closet emptying.
Zippers catching.
When he reached for the monogrammed garment bag my mother gave us, I stopped him.
“That stays.”
“It was a gift.”
“It was to the marriage,” I said. “The marriage is over.”
He nodded once.
Didn’t continue reading …
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