Gemotions

"A pilot," he had said. He had always been so confident, so assured, so full of himself. He had the money to spare, and now, I know, what he spared was his truth. The lie he told me filled me with heat. I looked at the brochure detailing the airline. It was the only thing I had left of him.

I went to the backyard and started pulling weeds, ripping them from the soil, the roots clinging on for dear life. My hands were raw and my back ached, but I couldn't stop. I found myself searching the ground, wanting to dig into it.

I needed to clear my mind, clear the garden, clear the air. When I'd finished, the yard was a mess of disturbed soil. He’d be so disgusted. Good.