The Aftermath

Jacqueline stands there as if she’s watching a semi roll its eighteen wheels straight toward her. At this moment in time, only the heavy-clawed furniture and Lenox china hold any substance; she feels as silent and invisible as the oxygen she is attempting to breathe into her lungs.

Leaving the coldness of her dining room, for a few moments silence has enveloped the house like a dead spirit. With tears rolling down her cheeks, her black sling back heels clicked with rhythm on the cherry floor and staircase, as she proceeded up toward the bedroom.

She chose her wardrobe with care, arranging each article in the deep suitcase, as if they were her last possessions. Trying to find composure, she walked over to Mark’s closet, removed his favorite chestnut brown sweater, holding it close up to her nose, she could still smell his musk and wood scent. She held it tight, imagining his toned biceps and A-lined chest holding her tight; gently folding the sweater, it took its place inside the lined container. Sighing, she knew as she closed the suitcase; it symbolized a closed chapter of her life.


Convinced Mark would never look for her car on the other side of town, Jacqueline had decided to leave it in a storage building located off the main thoroughfares. Sitting in her car waiting for the cab, she played the silent movie of the evenings events over in her mind. Noticing the cab pulling onto the gravel road where the storage building stood, she proceeded to lock up her car and her small space.

She told the cab driver to take her to the train station where she purchased her ticket and tried to steadily move ahead on her own tracks.

This whole situation seemed surreal to Jacqueline, she couldn’t remember anything, except the loneliness and the whisper of possibilities that awaited her.