He said he was leaving.
I sat at the small table in the corner and watched him.
It was the first time I noticed how slim he’d become.
His shoes clicked on the tiled floor as he walked to the bathroom.
The sound of the shower rang through the air.
I heard him throw his shoes and clothes into the corner, as he always did.
He hummed and it bothered me.
I leaned forward, with chin on fists, and looked about the room.
The bed seemed so far away with the blanket half on the floor.
He’d thrown it there when he said he was going.
I would fix it, later.
The apartment became quiet as he finished his shower.
I knew he would throw the wet towel onto his clothes, as he always did.
But maybe not, not today.
He would need the shoes, and belt, and the pants.
My brow was hot.
My lips were dry.
My fingers were frozen against my neck.
My heart pumped and it thumped in my throat.
He came out naked.
He was smiling.
He was teasing me, or hurting me.
I didn’t know which.
He dressed.
He packed only a few things and said he’d send for the rest.
I watched him walk out.
His shoes tapped on the hallway floor.
The door closed behind him.
The apartment was silent.
But he would be back.
I was sure.
He always did.