The hallway light was still on when I got home.
A note stuck to the fridge read: Urgent case at the firm, won't be back tonight. Will be there tomorrow, promise. Love you.
The words felt like they were laughing at me.
'Liar.'
I ripped it down and tore it into tiny pieces.
In the bedroom, I pulled out stacks of faded love letters he'd slipped into my textbooks every day back in college, albums full of photos from our trips, where he'd always wrap his arms around me from behind and rest his chin on my head, the shirt he'd worn on our very first date, still hanging at the back of the closet, my initials stitched into the cuff. And the scarf I'd stayed up nights knitting for him.
I carried them all to the bathtub, struck a match, and watched the flames roar up, swallowing every last trac
