Smiling like a new moon, eyes sparkling like stars, she refuses to speak her lines and
Turns away from him. Away from the argument. She’s never turned away from an argument. She makes the move so fluidly it looks like she’s rehearsed it.
An eternity of three seconds later, while her scent lingers, she’s exited stage right and he knows, in his bones, she will not come back, not even for a curtain call.
Gifts left behind like props that have served their purpose, aided her performance – perfume, scarves, diamond earrings –
Everything he did, discarded, unwanted.
Discarded, unwanted like him.
Is it a story? Is it a poem? Does it matter? Do you like it?