We had always loved crocheting together. We’d sit on the porch for hours, talking, laughing, sharing stories of the past and our future together. My favorite time would be the fall, when it was cooler and the wind was blowing our hair. Our cat would be curled by the window, in his little basket. Those were simpler times.

When you lost interest in that and started going out on those nights, I had my suspicions but was still trusting. I never thought you’d treat me as you did, like a fool. Like I wasn’t your soul mate - like we weren’t married - like we hadn’t shared any memory together at all. All for him - a new man, fresh, exciting. I wondered if he crocheted with you, too. You never explained; you only told me lies.

“Your words wound me deeply, but your silence hurts even more,” I tell you. Your mouth is stitched shut. I used the needle and the yarn we used to make together.