When Love Ends, Love Begins
A story by 
and 
A story by and
The time will come when you will find yourself staring at the window, thinking of your own life, when love finally ends.
You wake up in the middle of the night, both of you laying with your backs against each other.
Out in the distance, the lights from nearby buildings slightly illuminate the room.
Under the rain, a passing car honks.
The city softly lulls.
Sometimes, love doesn’t end from heated arguments and tearful fights.
Sometimes, a great silence, enough to occupy a room, like a hollow ringing inside a cave.
You walk up to the closet, picking up a duffel bag. Inside are neatly folded clothes, your personal kit, some dresses and books, a few jazz records.
Out on the pavement, you hail a cab to your family house. You walk the street, retracing familiar steps. Your parents greet you at the door.
They notice you’ve been crying. Be brave, my child, your mother says, embracing you. A man wavers in strength, but a woman doesn’t.
Inside the house, you sit drinking coffee, reading an old book.
You find these lines, from a dearly-beloved poet:
“You will love again the stranger who was your self./ Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart/ to itself, to the stranger who has loved you/ all your life, whom you ignored/ for another, who knows you by heart.”
Tomorrow, when the day breaks, I will tell my parents I’m leaving, you say to yourself.
Call the bank, find my place, settle in my new home.
Every decision starts with hope.
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