The Routine Cracks

I stood at the airport terminal, watching Sarah wheel her suitcase toward security. She turned back one last time, offering a quick smile and a wave. “I’ll call you when I land,” she said. Our goodbye kiss was brief, almost mechanical the kind of kiss couples give after years together when the spark has dulled. I told her I loved her. She said it back. Then she was gone for two weeks.

The drive home felt too quiet. Our apartment seemed bigger without her in it. I dropped my keys on the counter and poured myself a beer, sinking onto the couch. Sarah and I had been...