Six years of memories surrounded me.
Then I went upstairs and opened the wardrobe.
I pulled out Mark’s shirts and threw them onto the bed.
His trousers followed. Then his shoes, jackets, books, and the other things he had left scattered throughout the room.
I carried armfuls of his belongings downstairs and began throwing them out through the open window.
A shirt landed on the pavement.
A pair of shoes followed.
Then a jacket.
I knew it was childish. I knew I should have waited until I was calmer.
But at that moment, I couldn’t think about tomorrow or about what would happen to the house. I could only think about the man who had made me feel foolish for trusting him.
When the last bag was empty, I stood in the middle of the living room, breathing hard.
My hands were shaking.
I had spent six years building a life with Mark, and now I wanted every trace of him gone.
