Fight or Flight

The broken chair that I threw against the wall the night she left still lies like a shattered body against the wall.  The night she left.  The night she moved back to her mom's house, I carved an X apropos nothing into my palm, and realized only later how deeply frightened of her I was for the entirety of our four year marriage.  Two months later in the car outside a grocery store, the tears came.  Not of sadness, but of blessed relief, full-body quaking born of shock.  Like the sudden realization of how close to death I had come.


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