I do unimaginable things.

The next day, we both pretend nothing happened. My heart hurts.

We help friends fill their UHaul to move across the province. We ski together at the resort, and what should be a fun day falls flat and sad.

He goes to bed. He goes to work.

He is critical of me for leaving the light on in the bathroom.

I sit at my craft table working on a painting, listening to music. Snow is falling outside. He was two hours late coming home, and I'd already fed myself and carried on with my night.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were going grocery shopping? I would like to have input as to what comes into the house."

...

"Also, why did you shovel the driveway? I was going to do that when I got home."

...

I am unable to respond.

...

A part of me knows that if I soften and ask him what's wrong that I can fix everything. I can listen and empathize and apologize for everything, but it won't fix the larger issue. I can't find happiness in this.

I mourn the loss before it's happened. I think about the thirteen years we've been together. All of the shared memories. I think about who gets the good knife from the kitchen. Who gets the backpacking tent?

I don't have the energy to repair this. I don't actually know how to successfully repair this.

I don't want to be a quitter.

But all I want to do is walk away.