r stagnant and cold. It didn't j

ave when he s

rite the en

one hand, stripping the space of my existence. I didn't

byss. I cleared out the books on my nightstand. I took the framed photo of us f

ronic loc

ned, his eyes rimmed with red. He smelled like hosp

when he saw th

tured his voice. "W

ask of porcelain, cold and fragile-th

e honeymoon. You said we were going to the Amalfi Coast rig

ut a breath he must have been holding for hou

hand through his hair. "Of

rms around me. I stood stiff aga

okay with...

bly. "Yeah. He's stable

ia

d, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. "Tr

d my breath so I wouldn't in

he said. "Tomorrow is

wasn't a lie. I loved the fiction of it. The re

he door and ne

to my pare

he outskirts of the city, where the

nd his legs, a dark silhouette against the grey sky. The engines of t

om of the stairs and

en writing for two years. The one with thousands o

d the fin

eroine Leaves

a fiancé leaving his bride on the side of t

_Pub

d sharp like a gunshot. I han

it," I

took my hand. His grip was fi

?" he

e last time, watching the world I u

all down,