Endings and the Love of Sock.

In that moment I was speechless. I am not sure if it was the words or the calculated and indifferent way she said them.

“So it’s over?” I sputtered out, surprised I could even use words again.

She stared at me with raised eyebrows. Actually she glared with steely brown eyes.

“Was I unclear Terence?”

Terence! that name that always filled me with dread. Not Terry or Terr, but the fully pronounced and stressed with formality. I was cast into childhood, remembering every horrid act caught by mom and dad.

“No you were clear…Mathilda.”

Yes an act of revenge, but hell if Maddy was going to do it, so was I.

“Lovely,” she said as she continued to pack her bag.

I know that I should have been thinking about other things, but all I could come up with was the skill and efficiency she packed with. I had always been amazed every trip we went on. For me packing was a chore and I never did it right. Maddy was like a packing savant, within minutes she was done and I knew everything she needed was compacted into that small suitcase…I envied her.

The sound of the zipper snapped me out of my awe and back to reality. She was leaving, my world was crumbling and at the end I was simply Terence. So cruel was life.

She moved quickly. Out the bedroom door and into the living room. I stayed where I was, sitting on our bed, staring at some wayward sock on the floor. I should pick that sock up, find its soul mate and reunite them.

“Well I’m leaving,” she called from the door.

I think I grunted, but I am not sure. I did hear another “lovely” as she left, however I was busy contemplating the joy the sock would have once I found its mate. I was in shock or just a bit romantic. Hopefully in the grand scheme of sock love I was in shock.

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