I got happy/sad when he said he was leaving.

I’d been pushing him away in a million obvious and several thousand less-obvious-but-not-exactly-subtle ways. Every morning, I made coffee for one; I hadn’t asked him for his half of the bills in months; I never went to bed at the same time as him; I wouldn’t kiss him before, after or during sex; I left boxes of tampons all over the apartment.

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