I met Owen in the parking lot outside the old apartment building on Saturday morning.
I had one last box of kitchen things in the trunk. He had kept a few books of mine and the set of keys I'd forgotten to return. We stood beside my car while the wind moved through the trees along the street.
He handed me the keys.
"I'm glad you found a place," he said.
"Thank you."
"It looks good from the outside."
"It's small."
"You always wanted a place of your own."
"I wanted a place with a balcony."
"You'll find one eventually."
I held the keys in my palm. They felt heavier than they should have.
"I'm sorry about the wedding," I said.
"You don't have to apologize."
"I know. I'm saying I'm sorry we both got hurt."
He nodded. "Me too."
For a moment, I thought he might ask again whether we
