When we traveled.
When we retired.
When we repainted the kitchen.
When we eventually grew old.
Now I couldn’t imagine what the next week would look like.
“I don’t know,” I answered.
He looked frightened.
“Can we talk tonight?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I need time, Daniel.”
He ran his hands through his hair.
“I made a mistake.”
I shook my head.
“A mistake is forgetting an appointment.”
He looked down.
“A mistake is sending a message to the wrong person.”
“I know.”
“You told another woman we were separated.”
He nodded.
“You removed your wedding ring.”
“Yes.”
“You planned a race with her after promising to run it with me.”
“I know.”
“You pretended to be sick so I wouldn’t question why you weren’t participating.”
His eyes filled.
“And you worked out when I’d probably finish because you wanted to avoid seeing me.”
He said nothing.
