Anthem

His most recent weekend visit to the girlfriend did not go well.

He returned contrite and full of regret, asking me to take him back. He knows my answer, but asks anyway, hoping it'll change. He's begun smoking again. He quit months ago, the week he broke the news. She doesn't mind the habit, and never asked him to quit.

The grandfatherly kiss to the forehead in greeting is now a more familiar peck to the cheek. I've been fighting a cold, and slept all day. He got me medicine and made soup.

I am stone. I know what he asks, but make no reply. I survived my weekend alone and am better and stronger for it. I am moving on.