She paced the living room. He would be home soon, and she had no idea how she would answer his keys in the door.

She had spent week thinking of the words, only to lose them now. Her hands were clasped as if praying were something that would work now.

"I have to do this," she thought to herself.

"I have to do this," she said to herself.

The car could be heard pulling into the driveway. A car opens. It shuts.

She freezes. Hands down at her side. She stand amongst their furniture, their pictures, their nick-knacks.

She stands in the sweater he bought her two Christmases ago. She stands still.

Foot steps, keys jingle. Lock is unlocked.

"Hey babe, I'm home!"

She can't say anything.

"Katie?"

He saw her car, he knows she is there, and she knows that.

"In here," she is barely audible.

"Hey honey, how's it going," he asks while routinely dumping his keys into the bowl in the hall way.

Then he saw it. He saw in her eyes, and he knew what this was.

Amongst the nick-knacks, amongst the furniture, and behind the woman whom he had bought a sweater for, stood a pile of luggage.

The both freeze.

"I don't this anymore," she says behind choked back tears.

They stand there, for a minute, for an eternity.

He turns to the kitchen, a pours a drink.

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V767 (joined over 10 years ago)
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