They returned to the apartment in a silence that kept its own records. When the door closed, Emma set her keys in the bowl and left her hand there as if it were a compass finding north.
“I want a divorce," she said. Not loud, just exact.
Walter stood with his coat still on, as if undressing would concede the argument. “You said that already," he answered, gentler than his eyes. “I still won't agree."
“Noted. I'm saying it again so it doesn't get lost in whatever story you prefer."
“Is this about the garage?"
“I saw you—again—arrive at the wrong conclusion," she said, unzipping her boots. “My hair caught the wheel. Clarence untangled it. That's all. Like when Lucy's hair 'caught' and her arm stayed draped over yours."
“Are you leaving me for him?"
“I'm leaving because I'm done living
