My Husband’s Other Woman Came To My Door And Said She Needed My House For Their Baby

in that laundry room with his shirt in my hands, exactly when the notes had stopped, or the lake trips, or the version of him who noticed which pocket I actually used. It hadn’t happened all at once. It had happened the way most erosion happens, so slowly that you only notice the shape of what’s missing once it’s already gone.

The phone had rung twice continue reading …