Life changes in the instant.
You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.
The question of self-pity.
It was in fact the ordinary nature of everything preceding the event that prevented me from truly believing it had happened, absorbing it, getting past it.
How unremarkable the circumstances were in which the unthinkable occurred, the clear blue sky I saw from the plane, the ride back from the airport with jams and cars, the routine list of errands that was somewhere inside my purse, the home keys that often rattled inside my bag brushing against coins and pens, the freshly watered flower pots in the balcony of my home, the little games children were playing near the gate, the dirt that had long stuck the hinges of the wooden door, the sanitised floor.
And then inside, a home which no longer looked like one.
He had left, deciding never to come back