The apartment smelled like stale air and old dust. Ephram didn't turn on the lights. The streetlamp outside cast long, distorted shadows across the living room.
He looked at the wall. Their wedding photo hung there in a cheap plastic frame. Erlene's smile in the photo didn't reach her eyes.
Ephram walked over, took the frame off the nail, and dropped it into the trash can. The glass shattered with a loud crack.
He grabbed a duffel bag. He threw in two shirts, his toothbrush, and a small wooden box containing his mother's ring. That was it. Three years of marriage, packed in thirty seconds.
The divorce papers sat on the kitchen table.
The front door lock clicked. The handle turned.
Erlene walked in. She was alone. She flipped the light switch.
She stopped when she saw Ephram zipping up the bag. She blinked, surprised. She hadn't expected him to be so efficient.
"You're... leaving already?" she asked. Her voice was hesitant.
Ephram didn't look at her. "Isn't this what you wanted?"
Erlene walked to the table. She saw the signature on the papers. Her fingers traced the ink. It was dry.
"I'm sorry... about your grandmother," she said.
Ephram slung the bag over his shoulder. He turned to face her. His eyes were blank. "You don't get to talk about her."
Erlene flinched. Defensiveness flared in her chest. "I didn't want it to be like this! You just... you never tried, Ephram! I'm tired of being poor! I'm tired of counting coupons!"
Ephram watched her. He didn't yell back. He just watched her justify her betrayal.
"Andrew can give me a future," she shouted, her voice rising to a screech. "What can you give me? More bills?"
Ephram walked to the door. "I hope you're right."
"Where are you going?" Erlene asked, panic edging into her voice. "You don't have anywhere to go."
She fumbled in her purse. She pulled out a wad of cash-money Andrew had given her, claiming it was pocket change. It was actually a cash advance from a maxed-out credit card.
"Here," she said, holding it out. "Take it. Don't sleep on the street. It makes me look bad."
Ephram looked at the money. He looked at her face.
He walked past her. His shoulder brushed hers, hard. He didn't take the money.
Erlene's hand dropped. The bills fluttered to the dirty linoleum floor.
"Save it," Ephram said without turning around. "You're going to need it to pay for the regret."
The door slammed shut.
Erlene stood in the silence. She looked at the closed door. She felt a sudden, sharp pang in her chest. She knelt down to pick up the money, wiping a tear from her cheek.
"I made the right choice," she whispered to the empty room. "People have to move up."
