Fondly: Board games, picnic baskets and the end of the world

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It was raining.

Fitting for what was happening. The thunder was so loud, car alarms went off. The sky felt electric. I could feel it buzzing inside my body, jumping through my teeth.

It wasn’t a soft rain; it was a summer storm ahead of schedule. I could only hope the sky would stop falling by the morning, when I would pick up my U-Haul and pack up as much of my stuff as possible in a few hours’ time and close the door on everything we had built together over the past 11 years.

It was my final night in what had been my home for years, but as of the morning, it would degrade to a financial burden and a familiar place made strange.

My bed would be someone else’s to fuck a woman that was no longer my concern.

It was a strange night.

An ominous, end of the word siren grew louder. I heard her take the dogs down into the basement and wondered if I should join her, surrounded by our old memories—a wedding dress and Christmas ornaments, board games and a picnic basket…all bought together but no longer mine.

Perhaps they were never mine to have.

I decided to risk it and stay upstairs, quietly wishing this storm would just blow over.

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