“I’m leaving you.”

“You can’t. You are nothing without me.”

There was a disturbing smash. A scream.

A door slammed.

She ran out into the dark. There was rain. The power was out. She started climbing an old pipe. He wouldn’t think to look up top.

In the years they’d spent together, she’d learned that he wasn’t particularly smart, or he wouldn’t be this way. He didn’t learn. He apologized. He cried. He did it all over again.

She waited.

The rain lessened. The door slammed downstairs. He yelled, and threw things — he’d been outsmarted. She had to move down quickly before the power returned.

She ran right into Mrs. G from next door. She looked into her old grey eyes. “Run, child.. I did not see you tonight”. Their walls were not thick.

She ran away. From the shackles that were so tastefully deemed as a long-lasting marriage.