Not much else.
I always was on that date.
Some mornings, we passed in the kitchen like tenants. He poured coffee. I rinsed a mug.
Neither of us asked where the other was going anymore.
I always went to the pond.
Roger always went somewhere else.
I always went to the pond.
I tied my robe and walked past Emma’s bedroom. The door was closed. I had dusted the frame the day before without touching the knob.
Outside, the barking kept going.
I opened the back door… and my next breath died in my throat.