I sneak out of his bed around 3 and gather my clothes from the floor. I don’t bother picking up my heart; I think I’ll leave it there to collect some dust. Maybe it’ll get swept up by the maid on Friday and make its way to the landfill by next week. Outside, I dissolve under the porch light. I miss you. He’s everything you are not, and I hate you, I hate you so very much. Back home, I…