I still can’t believe it. I look at this tiny, sparse apartment with only minimal furniture and a few of my clothes boxes. Chris gave me three weeks to find another place to live. Three weeks during which I haven’t spoken to him, or even seen him, and for good reason: he’s sleeping at Jo’s. It happened so fast. This break has been too brutal for my heart, or my brain, to get used to it. He didn’t confront me in person to tell me; two hours and forty minutes after our last discussion, or rather, our last argument, he called to ask me to leave. His voice was so... so not him. Cold, impersonal, so... mechanical. I had the terrible feeling of choking while listening to him speak. I think I had answered each time with a single word: okay, yes, no, bye. Well, it’s difficult to say, that moment i
