ENTRY # 65

It started with a pile of junk mail thrown on the floor.

My trash, left on the dining table. Gabriel toppling it down.

Some words.

A day spent cleaning the house, not speaking, taking turns leaving. We speak to the boys gently, but not at all to one another. By evening, we direct perfunctory sentences. “Good soup. Thanks for dinner.” “The bathroom looks nice.” The next day. We are growing apart. He said, it’s not that were becoming hostile, but indifferent. More words about us, the children, us. It is a sad day. He leaves for a while. Returns. “Ive been thinking about divorce. Its very complicated. It would be much easier if we could just get through this.”

“I don’t know how.” Don’t know how to get a feeling back. Don’t want to keep on as we have been. Don’t know of any other life than this.

Truce. Later, as I cook dinner, he puts his arm around me and kisses my forehead. He doesn’t hate me.

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