by Vicky Ann Smith

Created on: March 15, 2011

Cassie slumped on the sofa, sweat peeled along her skin, oozing from every pour but she was not finished yet. Boxes filled the hall, the removal van was due in an hour and Kevin soon after. Sunlight streamed through the net curtains, highlighting four years’ worth of dust she had cast up into the air; taking a deep breath she dug her nails into the plush navy furniture he liked to keep spotless and pushed herself up.

She grabbed a picture hanging on the wall, ripping hook and wallpaper to the floor, she tossed it into a box, cracking the glass right between Kevin’s wondering eyes. She spat on them and sealed the box.

Last night’s pots sat in the sink, beer bottles lined up waiting to be knocked down, none of them were hers. The tap dripped, Kevin’s promise to fix it followed the water to the plug hole. The daffodil turned its trumpet to the window; the sunny days were appearing again. The snow on the sidewalk piled up at the kerb, melting each day. All winter Cassie hoped her cage of a house would brighten, then Kevin came home from work and the walls closed even further.

 Now he would find out how empty the place could be; Cassie picked up the Daffodil and placed it next to her bags. She swept through each room, checking everything was in place, only their bedroom she left untouched, a picture frame of their relationship with clothes strewn over the floor and bed. Books stacked neatly on her side, on his, magazines and papers for work spilt over the side table. She remembered how they designed and picked colours debating without arguing, an argument would at least be communicating now.

She closed the door and moved the last few boxes into the hallway, the Kitchen. Bathroom, study and lounge were empty at last; she walked down the stairs one last time. Her new one bedroom flat was a mere fraction of these rooms but the freedom drifted to her senses all the way from across town. ‘Maybe I should leave a note’ she thought in a sudden pang, the guilt worming its way through her heart. 

 “No,” she said defiant with her decision. “He can cheat and I can leave,” she repeated her mantra.

Outside the gate a white van pulled up, the last part of the plan she had begun during mid-winter was fulfilling itself as the dew signalled spring; all of Kevin’s stuff was going to the tip and he would be home any minute.

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