After he left I spent half an hour looking through photos from the last nine years. And then I thought about how we'd ever even begin to divide up our stuff.

Before he left, he told me that he had been looking forward to spending the rest of his life with me. Funny how this comes out now, like a wistful threat, a twist of the knife.

I told him that he has unrealistic expectations of me, and that I live in fear of disappointing him, which inevitibly happens because that's how life happens. That if only he would back off that I would open up.