You had gone in the middle of the night. The blankets on your side of the bed laid crumpled on the floor like the shedding of a snake. Your big camper bag was gone from the shoulders of the wooden chair.
The once feisty room now seemed empty and cold.
Ah, you had left a note on the bed. Your handwriting was so horrible it looks as if
“A flamingo tried to write, right?”
A laugh escaped from my chest and I remembered the way you covered your face with your palm in a pretense of embarrassment.
Thank you, the note said.
Were you truly thankful to have left me in this mess? With no direction, no map, this hollow emptiness and this pain… this, this heart-wrenching ache.
I ripped the note into pieces and wiped the tears from my cheeks.