It was raining when he told her to leave. They'd been arguing for weeks and he thought it would be easier. But it wasn't. She cried and said she didn't understand and asked what did she do. But there was nothing she did he realized as he watched her pack the scuffed baby blue Tourister and listened to the rain beat on the narrow courtyard windows. It was all him. He said that thinking it would be easier, but that didn't work either and the guilt of being an unexplainable thing stayed with him long after she was gone. Months later, when he was moving out himself, he found a pair of her underwear buried in a sock drawer and knew that his meanness would always be a part of him.
