Not a photograph, not a wedding gift, not one object that would tie me to the life I was leaving.

I had already, in my head, closed that account.

By sunrise, I was a ghost.

I was gone from that apartment, checked in elsewhere under my own maiden name, untraceable to anyone who did not have a warrant.

And on the empty dining table, where Luca would find it whenever he wandered home from his fishing trip, I left two things.

The spare key.