He opened his eyes and then rolled over, hoping that he'd see her lying beside him. But she wasn't, same as the last ten years.
He got up, slowly, and went through his routine, toilet, shower, teeth, coffee, dress, breakfast, gather, leave. At every step, he hoped for a knock on the door, a buzz of his phone. But there were none, same as the last ten years.
The commute, the work, the commute, all were busy enough that he didn't have time to hope.
He came home to find a letter, and hope briefly soared.
Then he read it.
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