Darius’s absence was palpable everywhere.
His jacket wasn’t hanging on the hook in the entryway.
His sneakers were gone from under the dresser.
His shaving gear wasn’t scattered in the bathroom.
Even the smell of his cologne had faded.
Kiana stopped by the living room window and looked down into the courtyard.
Kids were playing soccer between the garages.
A woman with a stroller walked slowly along the path.
An old man was walking a dachshund in a little sweater.
Ordinary life, in which her personal drama meant absolutely nothing.
She went back to the kitchen, brewed coffee in her small drip machine, and sat at the table.
She needed to think, plan, and decide what to do next.
File for divorce, change the locks just in case—though Darius had left the keys on the nightstand.
Erase five years of her life as if they hadn’t happened.
But for some reason, she didn’t want to think.
She just wanted to sit, drink hot coffee, and watch the clouds drift past the window over the low rooftops.
The phone rang around noon.
