The Night Everything Changes

I was already in bed when I heard the front door open.

It was past one. I had left the lamp on my nightstand burning low, the way I sometimes did when I knew he was still out and the apartment felt too empty without the sound of him moving around. The argument from two nights ago still lived in the walls. We had spoken since short, careful exchanges about groceries and whose turn it was to take out the trash but the easy rhythm between us had not come back. The cracks were still there, quiet and deep.

His footsteps in the hallway were uneven....