The Day After


I woke feeling light. Unburdened. The depression that had plagued me for more than a year was just... gone.

I knew it was a temporary fix. I knew the hardest part was still to come. Getting over it. Healing. Moving on. But right now, that seemed far in the future. And he seemed far in the past. And I was floating in the most delicious purgatory that ever existed.

I stayed in bed as long as I could, then I went around and opened every window in the house. It was spring, and it finally felt like a new season to me. The sun was coming out from behind the clouds. The air was crisp and cool and it invigorated me. It felt like nature was clearing his presence from my home. 

I leaned out of a window and surveyed the yard, envisioning the flowers I could plant now that my energy felt endless and unstifled. This was my kingdom, and I could make it look however I wanted.

I stood in the middle of every room for too long, taking stock of what was mine and what would soon be gone. I could move the furniture; I could paint the walls. I could get rid of the couch with his body imprinted into the cushion.

The house already felt emptier in the best way possible. He had so many things; he could never let go of anything. He would still be here if he had any say in it. We hadn't been happy in so long, if ever, but he didn't care. I knew that about him, but it took me too long to stand up for myself.

No more. I was finally free, and I had the rest of my life in front of me. I felt every door inching open with possibilities. Now I didn't have to be home when he was home; I could work late, go out with friends, stop checking in via text no matter where I was or who I was with.

Speaking of - I pulled out my phone and muted his number so his calls and texts wouldn't interrupt my peace. I'd deal with them when I was ready. But for now, I felt like I should call some friends. It seemed like a brunch with bottomless mimosas was in order. Maybe we'd stay until the dinner crowd needed our table.



399 words

[prompt from Going Short by Nancy Stohlman]

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