It had been three whole days since we last spent any real time together, barely crossing paths for more than a couple of minutes at a time.
I started paying attention, not because I'm obsessed or anything, but just because it's been impacting my daily routine in ways I'd rather it didn't. So, on Monday, he was out the door before 6 am and didn't get back until after 10 pm. Tuesday was pretty much the same story. And then on Wednesday, I made a point to get up early, around 7 am, just so I could catch him before he left for the day, but when I came downstairs, I found that the coffee was already brewed and the house was empty - he had already taken off.
It was clear to me right from the start. I didn't need time to figure it out. The way he was absent was just too perfect, too consistent.
