You haven’t left your husband, he types.
How the hell would you know?
Its not that easy. This is not you and Paula. This is me and Jake and two kids and a house we own and private middle school and two car payments and all of my friends who will become half of my friends and all of our family who will become half of our family and custody hearings and this city and your city and my lousy paycheck and his slow, rainy months and his hurt looks and my guilt, and all of it so much bigger than you packing a couple of bags and renting a place across town and getting a dog.
E, you know I can’t.
D, it shouldn’t matter.
How can you be so irrational?
(The cursor hesitates.)
You mean honest?
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