A few suits.

Some ordinary clothes.

My documents.

I left behind every expensive thing Craig had ever “given” me by swiping my own card, because I did not want anything in my new life that smelled of him.

Then I went to the safe at the back of the closet and spun the dial, and took out a manila envelope I had put there six months earlier.

Inside was a petition for divorce, drafted with a private attorney and already signed, on a night Craig had knocked my dinner to the floor because his mother whispered that I had looked at her wrong.