She hates that it's come to this, she thinks as she pulls her strawberry blonde hair back with an old, frayed hair-tie and looks around the room that she used to think of as theirs. Even though she still has her home that houses her daughter and her world, she would return to his room and see their things together, and think that it was theirs.
But, not anymore. She picks up the last bag and moves it to the front door. Three large bags wait for her.
After a quick glance at her watch, she figures that she has an hour before he returns. She wants to linger, but she knows that she's been lingering for six months.
Six months of being taken for granted. Six months of never sharing her life, only sharing his. Six months of feeling completely unimportant.
It never used to be like this, she thinks, wincing as she picks up the first bag.
Before, she felt like an equal. Before, she knew she was appreciated. Before, she knew she was needed as much as she needed him.
But, now, it's become all about listening to him complain about his most frustrating cases---he never asks how her new workload is. It's become about being talked into sex when he's in the mood---it doesn't seem to matter if she's reviewing her staff's latest reports, or spending time with her daughter.
Their lives used to turn in sync; now, her life revolves around his.
Once the last bag is tucked into the back of her vehicle, she turns and marches back to the house. She pulls an empty envelope out of the pocket of her purse and puts the key to his townhouse inside. After scribbling his name on the front, she seals it, and drops it in the mailbox.
The End!
