The Night He Told Me to Leave, He Forgot Whose Name Was on Everything

rugs had protected the wood from sunlight, surrounded by darker aged sections. The walls were pockmarked with holes from picture hooks and faint outlines where artwork had hung for years.

I walked through each room one final time, my footsteps echoing. When I reached the foyer, I held a thick manila envelope in my hands.

In movies, the leaving wife writes continue reading …