I.
The bottle of perfume sat on the dresser right where she left it, the floral scent stuck to the bottle, threatening to remind her of what she is giving up by leaving it sitting by itself on the dark wood, to keep the perfume company she left a folded paper with scrawling loops in blue ink staining the cream-colored stationary.
There would only be one set of eyes that would read the secrets hidden in the short paragraph, and that was just how she wanted it, no one but him would know the contents of her heart.
A clean break.
She was leaving no trace of him left for her to miss, but she would, she would miss him like she missed the sun in the winter, she would miss him until she could no longer remember the crease of his skin between his furrowing eyebrows or the mole that had made a hiding spot for itself behind his ear beneath his perfectly trimmed hair, or the taste of wine on his breath.
It was long past the time for her to make her departure so with one more glance cast at the bottle of perfume and cream paper, she left.
II.
This was the room where memories of hushed whispers in a secret language only known to the two of them filled the silence. They had learned it together between twisted cream sheets, had traced the foreign words into each other’s skin until they knew it by heart.
Their story had been written in the pages of her diary in invisible ink but their memories had stained her mind like a fine wine. It would be hard to forget, to go back to how it was before when their gaze didn’t meet in stares of longing and blushing smiles of shameful flirtation.
She wanted nothing more than to reverse time back to when they wanted nothing but to stay in those tangled sheets hidden from truth, hidden from reality, hidden from the scandal born from their actions.
Yes, she wanted nothing more than to stay in that safe haven they had created for the two of them but he had invaded even the safest of spaces, his own shames festering and dwindling the flames of their passion, corrupting the once harmless moments they shared between lies and deceit. It was painful but she welcomed the pain because at least she was able to feel something.
III.
The key was tucked securely underneath the worn welcome mat, the word welcome faded and trampled, she knew he would find it once he read her note. The blue bricks of the building faded from her view as she walked away.
It was now, hidden from the picturesque view of the past that she was able to wonder what would happen next.
She could picture him clenching his jaw when he read the smudged words of her note, her jaw ached at the thought of it. She lost herself in the memories of flickering candles and soapy suds spilling over the lip of a bathtub and it was in this daze that she found she was able to walk away from her haunted sins and lingering regret, the cream sheets of what was once her sanctuary becoming a ghostly whisper of her past mistakes.
Her temptation held hands with her shame and it would be only her who would need to scrub the wine stains from her clothes.
No, he would have no need to endure the labor of cleansing himself, he would put on a new shirt that she had made him. His surprise quickly overcome by the façade he played so well. He would pour another glass of wine not caring where it spilled over or whose clothes those drops would find a home in.
It was with this thought that her steps grew wider and her chin jutted up exposing the wine-stained collar of her shirt, that she would show off,
her own personal scarlet letter,
because there was no use wallowing in the shame that haunted her past, because tears had been wasted on a love that was never true, because acceptance would heal her open wounds until they were no more than a faded scar.
There would be a day where she would forget this man, but she was sure that the memory of her would always be hidden in the darkest corner of his mind,
because she was the one who left.
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