He catches her eye from the hallway.
He glances at his wrist. Half past four.
She should be at work.
His phone rings.
Ring,
Ring,
Ring,
Silence.
'No, I haven't changed my mind. I'll be down in a minute, ' he says.
Hesitation.
Silence.
'love you, too honey.'
Silence.
He walks over to a photo hanging on the wall. Their wedding day.
'who are those people? ' he mutters to himself.
He lifts her perfume bottle from the night stand.
Whiff.
Memories of the day they met fill his head. She was so beautiful.
His mind jumps to their first fight. How he wishes their problems were as simple as whose turn it is to do the dishes.
She watches him as he grabs pants, shirts, shoes.
Every fold deliberate.
a Choice.
He is resolve.
He leaves papers stained with tears on the table they built together.
Not like this.
she has seen enough,
yet she can't seem to stop herself from watching him leave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem