Moving On

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Walking through the front door was confirmation to myself that things were going to change. Stripping off every item of clothing, I make my way toward the darkened room, feeling moisture between my legs as I move closer to him.

“I’m home,” I call to the darkness.

Seeing my husband’s reflection staring back at me through the glass.

“This will be the last time,” I whisper. “After tonight I’m choosing a new path.”

Minutes later my fingers slip from deep within, sated from our last memory. I am finally able to move on.

“Goodbye, my love.”

 

Published 5 years ago

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