It has been difficult. I guess now I have time to write, what an irony, time to write about the woman I no longer have, the one I accused of not giving me room to write or read or breathe.
Today is the first Friday since the beginning of our journey that we are not together. The week was not easy but was tolerable because I sought shelter at work; however, a silent driver of weekdays is the promise of weekends, of relaxation, of love making, of company; and when that promise vanishes and one has been fooled by the weekday routine, Friday evening finds us lost and abandoned. One stares at the clock on the wall at 5pm and sighs with relief “finally, I’m going… but where?”, and an evasive and tiny despair is felt somewhere inside one’s body, but I cannot put my finger on it.
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