He wasn’t who she thought he was, so she kicked him out.
His deception enrages her. The cadence of his voice — milky and baritone, hanging wistfully in the air — haunts her.
After she had demanded he leave, her face soaked and itchy with tears, his empty promises stayed behind and occupied her bed. They sleep beside her. They are thick and heavy as though filled with lead, and they snore loudly.
Every morning she wakes up and hopes that they are no longer empty; that they are full of the love and the happiness he had pledged to her on those many nights that she and he lay tangled blissfully in each other’s arms. But the promises remain barren, faithfully barren. Those empty promises always idle, corpulent and grotesque, mocking her faith in love.
Today, she will demand that they too leave. And she will buy a new bed.
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