The conversation lasted two words:
"Get out."

Get out of my car. Get out of my heart. Get out of my head.

Get out of my life.

He left after that. I think he heard all of the things I didn't say. I was angry with him, and rightly so. He never told me that he was already seeing someone when we started dating. He made me the Other Woman and I had no idea.

His sweater is still under the passenger seat of my car. His handwritten notes are still in the glove box. His voice is still in my head.

Two years. Two years later and I still can't bring myself to clean out that stupid 1992 Honda. Two years later and he hasn't gotten out.