"I'm done," she said, and she was gone.
Five years, and it could be over as quickly as that. She didn't say anything more to him all that he could look at was her pillow.
She had lain in that same spot for as long as they had been together the pillows and the mattress and the sheets knew her form as well as he did the dip of a waist, the curve of a hip. The fibers had memorized her every nuance, so when the door shut, and he heard her car drive away, he knew that she hadn't really gone, not all of her.
The early morning light caught her highlights and cast her shadow across the rest of the bed he could imagi