A light on in the hallway. Pictures on walls. It’s May, and the heat kicks on.

Blinds are closed. Windows locked. No noises. Just quiet. He sits on a love seat alone. There is no one else.

Do you have a girlfriend? She asked. Are you having an affair? She demands an answer. The phone cord reaches across the kitchen, where she sits at a table, drinking chamomile tea. I’m here by myself, she said. Just me. What are you doing? Please come home.

I am home, he said.

After all this time, you’re just going to leave? There were promises made.

Yes. Yes, there were, he said. By both of us. Funny how that works. Neither able to hold up their end of the deal. Maybe that’s what happens to people. They live in resentment, he told her.

Do you resent me?

I started to. He paused. We had become roommates. Arguing roommates. People who walk on eggshells. Scared. Always scared.

People change. They can change, she said. The cat walked on the counter. Do you believe people can change?

I believe people change. Whether they want to or not. It just happens. Some accept it and keep their mouths shut. Others? Well, they leave. They go.

Are you happy? She asked.

I’ll never be happy.