Tuesday, November 11, 2008


In his email the night before, he mentioned something about coming over to pick up his half of the yard tools and to drop off a frame of hers.

She didn't expect him to stop by so early the next morning. He rang the doorbell.

"Why didn't you just come in the garage?" she asked.

He shrugged.

He still barely looked at her, or listened to the answers of the questions he asked her even though it was simply small talk. Among the offerings he had brought with him -- plastic bags for the dog walks and a mis-forwarded internet bill -- was the picture of her with her beloved horse that she had given him when they first became an item. It was in a simple little frame that he had always kept on his desk at work.

She smiled as she recognized the picture, one of her favorite portraits, and then realized the significance of its return path.

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