The Absence of Green

Elena stood in the doorway of what used to be their kitchen, watching him pack. The morning light caught the brim of his favorite fedora, that ridiculous **hat** he'd worn to their wedding, now resting atop a box of books like a crown on a fallen king.

"You should take your vitamins," she said, the words tasting like ash. "The doctor said your levels were low."

Mark paused, his back to her. "I will."

He wouldn't. He never remembered to take anything unless she handed it to him with a glass of water, unless she reminded him, unless she cared enough to mother a grown man who'd stopped seeing her years ago.

The garden outside the window was overgrown with weeds now, but she could still remember how proud she'd been when she'd harvested that first crop of organic **spinach** last spring. How she'd made them salads, how Mark had smiled and said, "This is what real food tastes like, El. We're living differently now." They'd been going to change everything—grow their own vegetables, cook together every night, age gracefully and healthily into their fifties.

That was six months before she found the texts. Before "living differently" became his code for "living with someone else."

"The **spinach** needs harvesting," she said now, surprised by her own voice. "If you're leaving, you should know that."

He turned finally, and his face was older than she remembered. "Elena—"

"Don't." She picked up the bottle of **vitamin** D supplements from the counter and placed it in his box. "Take these. Please. For whatever it's worth."

His eyes filled with tears, and for a moment she almost relented. But then she remembered the girl's name in his phone, the lies, the way he'd made her feel like she was imagining everything, like she was crazy for suspecting him.

"I'll come by next week," he said quietly. "For the rest of my things."

"Don't bother. I'll leave them outside."

He picked up his **hat**, settled it on his head with practiced ease. At the door, he hesitated. "You were right about the spinach, you know. About trying to live better."

Then he was gone.

Elena stood alone in the silent kitchen, sunlight streaming through windows they'd chosen together, and realized she didn't know who she was without him. But outside, the garden kept growing without permission, wild and untended, and somehow that made her feel like maybe she would too.