Because we had been fighting. I lost control after he ignored my plea to let me write in peace. The house echoed with only the splattering of teardrops on my perfect, glossy, hardwood floors. I curled up in a fetal position and smoked the pack of cigs he left behind, not believing he had really gone this time. Sure we had done this before.
People fight in marriages.
People fight in relationships. Some are worse than others. Yet he had always managed to return after driving around the block once. He'd storm in, tear glistening green eyes hopeful, me with arms outstretched and waiting, pleading for forgiveness. Not this last time.