'Leaving' by Gina L. Grandi
You say, I’ll take care of it, because packing together would hurt too much. He stacks his things: clothes, books, photos. Hire someone, he says. I’ll pay. This is for the best, he says, and you say, I know. I know, it is. Later you will discover packing alone hurts too much, too. You will lie down on the floor and cry. The cat will wander in, blink, and step delicately over you to vomit, gracefully, into a half-packed box of his shirts. You will pretend not to notice and close the carton, crying, laughing, wondering what to do now.