Her shovel sank into the loam like a spoon into cheesecake. The swamp's stink around her comforted her, like a fetid blanket it enveloped her senses, buried her sins as she buried he who had sinned against her again and again.
How did we fall out of love? She mused as she dug.
Betrayal wasn't enough. She forgave him so many times, endured so many apologies. She had believed him time and time again when he said he would change, that he still loved her above all others. How many times had she bought that line? She chuckled when she remembered what a fool she was, but would not let herself regret.
I would be the woman I am today without him. I would not understand what it means to be free. I owe him that much. Still, in spite of her 'gratitude', she spat in his blank, empty stare, lying still beside her as she dug. It took hours, but the hole slowly took shape in the bank. Crickets, tall grasses rustling in a silent wind, the still waters of the bog, its stench… and his, they were her only company.
How did we fall out of love?
Piece by piece, day by day, they lost passion, then contentment, then trust. He strayed and strayed, she forgave and forgave. It hurt all the worse, knowing that what she clung too was little more than dust. That the love she felt was no longer returned. And perhaps it had never been. Doubt eroded what had once been unassailable. And…
And… one night she found herself standing above him as he slumbered. Ice pick in her hand. He smiled as he snored. And that was it. The moment.
How can he be so happy when I'm, I'm…? The pick bit into him of its own accord. Into his neck, his eyes opened wide. If he screamed she did not hear it. It rose and fell and rose and fell and…
…now in the swamp, in the bog by the shore. Hole dug, she gave him one last look before rolling him into the black. She wept, not for him. She would never miss him, but for what she thought they had.
How did we fall out of love? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you try…?