Harper Lawson — The Midnight Betrayal
After leaving the house, I drove past the lake where Preston and I had once rented a rowboat every summer.
The water was gray and restless under a low sky.
I did not stop.
Back at the apartment, Ruth asked whether I’d retrieved everything.
“Not everything,” I said.
“But everything I needed.”
The distinction mattered.
My old house contained a thousand objects associated with a marriage I was ending.