Day 9: The way it shatters

Where can I put these?, she asked as I watched her take her things out from her bag.

That was as good a death knell as any.

I felt sick to the core even as she slowly went about doing the things in my apartment that meant she was moving in with me.

That meant we were going to fight every now and then, over whose turn it was to take out the trash, over who forgot to turn off the air-con, over who should pay the bill for the vet's fees for our dog. Over the colour of our white picket fence.


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