After the Chain Breaks
By the time I returned home, the rain had stopped.
The city outside my window was still wet, streetlights trembling in shallow puddles along the road. Cars passed below in silver streaks, their tyres hissing softly over the asphalt. Everything looked the same as it always had.
Yet, for some reason, I stood at the door for a long time without moving.
I had imagined this moment many times.
In those imaginings, I would feel relieved. Maybe I would cry. Maybe I would sit on the floor and laugh until my chest hurt. Maybe I would open a bottle of wine, drink to my freedom, and sleep for three days.
But reality was much quieter.
I only took off my shoes, placed the signed termination agreement on the table, and boiled water for tea.
The kettle hummed.
Steam rose.
