There was never a word mentioned. She didn’t tell. Like so many, she kept quiet. Left without a trace. Didn’t even lie. Just went.

No note. No letter. Goodbye Pork Pie Hat by Mingus played on the radio. The sound was soft, melancholy. A full ashtray sat on the nightstand

Down the hall, a couple was yelling at each other about rent. A man asking a woman where her end of the deal was. Said she spent it on things she needed. Things that made her feel like a woman; perfume, makeup, red red lipstick.  They were so loud. Mingus was turned up.

He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her. Black and white photos taken in a booth out on Coney Island lay on the nightstand. The young man looked at the pictures. Her tongue was sticking out in one. In another, she was kissing his cheek.

He lit a Lucky Strike, knowing it was over.