Scenes Without Context, 1

Before she left, she told me that she did everything to fulfill her part from the start.

          “When I told you love you, I really did,” she said. “When I told you I can be anything that you want, I meant it.”

          “And you are,” I managed to say. It was one of the few things I could really say straight from the heart: how something could be. “You are everything I ever wanted.”

          She was looking straight at me, and I averted my eyes from hers and focused on the mole on her upper lip. She was pulling her luggage like someone about to stroll through an airport terminal. Her fingers were twitching as if caught between holding on or letting go.

          “I did everything,” she said.

          I nodded. “You did.”

          “Just tell me one last thing: did all that mean anything to you? Did all of me meant something?”

          I sighed. “Of course it did, but—”

          “No, I don’t want to hear any explanation,” she clutched the handle of her luggage. “I guess I can be everything you ever wanted but still be not enough.”

          She tugged her luggage through the hallway and before closing the door completely, she gave one last look at me. I didn’t meet her gaze.

          I looked down and the wheels of her luggage left deep trenches over the dirty carpet in a place we once called home.