Goodbye

I can't say it surprised me when she left. I would have thought we'd have a final conversation, an argument at least. Maybe sit on the floor of the living room and drain a last bottle of wine while she would cry and tell me again how much I've changed, how she doesn't know me anymore. We'd let loose with all the regret and sadness and rage and then send it all up in flames with the sex we hadn't had since God knows when. At the least, she'd leave a letter, the tired words of a woman lamenting...