I want to wear pearls because I feel part of myself slip away, a death, and I’m not sure what’s dying. I want reassurance that perhaps this death could turn into something beautiful. I want a connection to life.
“I intend to divorce you,” my husband finally said, an icy edge to his voice, an anvil to my chest. I again saw words suspended near the ceiling, this time his, in steely capital letters, a “kersplat!” in the old Batman show.