Then came the last line.
You were the medium-density weatherstripping. The right fit. I knew it in that hardware store.
I sat on the floor for a very long time.
David breathed quietly above me.
The gray February light came through the curtains.
And I felt something I still don’t know how to properly name.
It wasn’t grief.
It wasn’t relief.
It felt more like being found.
Like the person who knew me better than anyone else had seen this moment coming years before I did.
And he had left
