Her writing is good. Maybe good enough for her to stand alone, independent of me. The wind has picked up, chopping the water into six inch waves as we push toward Bird Island. I paddle faster, catching up with her. My paddle and breath are held in synchronous anticipation.
Small waves bobble the kayak.
She frowns, looks away, then looks back. I'm in love with him. He wants me to go to California. She looks away for a moment, then back to me. Tom, I want a divorce.