She gave her usual kind of reply. “Harrison Robinson has been under a lot of pressure at work lately; seeing these flowers will make him feel better…”
With a nod, I gave a few polite compliments.
As the rain slowly stopped, I took my bag and got ready to go. When I reached the door, Hallie suddenly caught my hand.
“Where do you live? Let me walk you home.”
“There’s no need.”
I stepped back a few paces, keeping some distance from Hallie.
Calmly, I said, “I’m afraid your husband might take it the wrong way.”
As she turned around to leave, Hallie seemed to say something.
The wind was too loud and I didn’t catch it. Only the breakfast in my hand was soaked through by the rain.
What a waste.
I tossed the ruined food into the trash can.
The wind lifted my sleeve, showing the scars left from the past. I stopped, remembering something.
It had been seven years since my divorce from Hallie. And three years since I had truly let her go.
There was no sadness I imagined, none of the wild emotion I felt right after the divorce.
I was calm now, like looking at someone I no longer knew.
The rain had ended and the sky was clear.
Pulling down my sleeve, I walked unsteadily toward the steamed bun shop.