We'd been married for twenty years,
and it was finally time for him to open up.
He sat me down, looked me in the eyes, and opened his mouth.
Clear, precise, proficient in his speech, in his tone, and in the language of his body.
His body, which I know like my own. One I'd known for half of this life. His body.
Words like a simple tune I've heard before.. but can't recall the end.
In fact, I never knew how it would end with him, either.
Twenty years, and he told me he didn't love me.
That he was meant to be alone,
Twenty years ago.