He’s leaving again, probably for a long time. I should be running outside, begging him to stop, reconsider, stay. I should be screaming, crying, shouting. Instead, I turn away from the closed door. The air is warm, but my heart has turned to ice. I shiver.

There is nothing left of my love for him. I can’t remember when it died. When did I stop being angry that he wanted every woman except me? When did I quit crying for what would never be? All I know is that I’m tired, so tired of my feelings for him that I’m numb.

By the time he returns, if he does, I won’t be here. I’ve got plans of my own. I’m going to lose myself so well he’ll never find me because, if I don’t, he’ll draw me back in again. I want to live my own life outside of his shadow. It’s time I turned the page.