the box

when she left she emptied every bit of her clothes from her side of the closet

he returned home from work to find half of apartment unvacated

her side of the bed was pillowless

her photos off the walls

her lotions makeups soaps shampoos gone

he dreaded opening the closet

knowing it would be half filled with empty hangers swaying in the breeze from the now open door

all that remained was one box sitting forlornly on the floor

his face scrunched in confusion as he bent to open it up

then he fell back into his ass on the floor with tears streaming freely down into his beard

it was the baby clothes her mother had gotten them when they began trying for the child that never happened

the toys still in the packaging

each a dagger into the very soul of their relationship stacked neatly in the box on the empty side of the closet

all he could was let the tsunami of pain drown him as he ran his hands over the things never worn the toys never played with the life never lived the love broken

3 thoughts on “the box

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