The doomsday clock to our marriage is ticking.
I can hear it echoing night and day in my heart. The sands are virtually pouring through the hourglass in these are last days together. After 9 years of marriage, there are literally hours left before we go our separate ways, and with each passing second, another piece of me withers beneath the weight of this nightmare.
Each breath I take seems labored and futile. As I write this, I am glancing up from the keyboard every few moments watching her fix her lunch, a cup of tea…going about a normal routine as though divorce was just another item to be marked off of her daily checklist of things to get done. ”Do you want a cup of coffee, sweetheart?” she asks. Are you kidding me? What I want is my wife…my life…my sanity returned to us. I can’t eat or drink or think. I can barely function. Can’t she see me dissembling right before her eyes.
She’s keeping our dog. The house. The car. My heart. I get custody of the memories.