He probably wished her a rote good night; Marion can’t recall. He definitely did not wish her a good morning; by the time she woke, Bill, Marion’s at-long-last-love, was gone.

He’d cleared his toiletries from the sink, his clothing from the closet, and left her key on the kitchen table. 

No forewarning; no explanation. It’s been five days, Marion tells me, and she still hasn’t a clue.

What she does have is all her stuff back from Bill’s place; he saw to that forthwith. The day after his departure he returned, just as abruptly as he’d left, and presented Marion—silently—with three bins into which he’d piled her clothing.

Marion silently handed him her copy of the his-n-her key set.

Two days later, she received an envelope. Inside were two tens and four ones, her share of the proceeds from their rummage sale. Folded around the cash was a slip of paper. Upon which was printed neatly: No words, just money.

And to think, for the last two years, since the magical day their love story began, how I envied them their passion.

How I yearned to be held close on the dance floor as Bill held Marion. To hear such words of adoration as Bill murmured to Marion. To have my man publicly proclaim his love as Bill did for Marion.

Thus was the winter—and spring, summer, fall—of my discontent: times two years. I was on the blue side of green with envy.

Had I an inkling of what was to come, I’d have not wasted a moment pining for manifestations of love. Sincere as they may be at the time—I believe Bill's were—sentiments prove ephemeral. If it were me whose "forever" just imploded, today's sorrow would trump yesterday's joy.

As to why Bill walked out; that mystery remains. What is clear is that I’d be wise to content myself with the one who cares for me, albeit silently. As they say, what good is talking the talk if you don’t walk the walk.

As for dancing the dance…well, let’s just say, the lack of romantic entwinement results in our being assumed a way-past-that-stage, long-time-married couple. Which is not nearly as mortifying as being mistaken for siblings. (Don’t even go there!)