I sat in my car that gray stricken day and watched drops of water speckle the windshield then collect into tiny puddles. They slid down the glass, like shooting stars, gathering their friends along the way. My mind unable to shake our earlier conversation. “I want a divorce; I don’t love you the way I should anymore”. Silence than shock. Or was it? While you feigned disbelief the excitement played in your eyes. All the freedom that would come with the end. But you wouldn’t let me off that easy. I mean how could I do this to YOU, right? You fed on my emotions, my guilt, and let the entire fault lie on me. Every church service, every meal, every hand pressed outfit starched and laid out. That’s what I was there for and suddenly, I wasn’t. You knew what would make me hurt and you knew how to lay the guilt on thick so it smothered me. The way you would when you couldn’t keep your hands off me. Those hands. The ones you had tainted with other women. The same ones you used to wipe my tears away. The same ones that held our newborn children and the same ones that held my hands. Once upon a time.