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LA – months ago.
The paintings on the walls, the green couch, the robust dining table, the carpet for contrast on the wooden floor – a still life on a canvas. Everything is exactly how Tina left it months ago. Making my way over to the kitchen I pass the dent in the wall. The sound of the tap water running, fills my ears like the Niagara falls in this empty house. After quenching my thirst with big gulps of cold water, I fill the glass again and leaning against the kitchen counter my eyes inevitably wander back to the dent in the wall next to our wedding picture. That hole, the touchable evidence of all the unbearable pain that ripped my heart apart when she told me she had cheated on me. The rage and despair that made me aim the glass at the beautiful black and white picture next to it, that represented everything that was long lost by then. I should have let it fix a long time ago.
For the last time I open the patio doors, inviting the night breeze to move the still air inside. Her plants and herbs that she was maintaining always with so much care, have died a long time ago. I tried to maintain it after she left, but that was just one more thing I couldn’t seem to do. The pool water glisters in the moonlight. Not sure what to do I slowly walk through the hallway. My footsteps sound hollow as my fingertips brush along the white plastered wall, the two doors at the end wait for me. My heart almost comes to a standstill, whichever door I choose, behind it more memories are awaiting. The right one. The big bed is neatly made, her old, favorite shirt that she forgot is still lying on the pillow next to mine. I don’t need to smell it, the scent wore off soon after she had left even though I kept on searching for it during all those lonely nights. I pick it up and add it to one of the suitcases. The mattress sinks when I sit down on the bed that didn’t harbor many nights of passion nor I recall many nights spent in the safe circle of her arms in this bed. I do recall tiptoeing into the dark room, finding her sleeping form in the shadows of the dark under the covers, after another long day at the gallery and me slipping into the bed starring at the ceiling until sleep would eventually take over.