I walked to the bus stop and there it was – on the ground, under the seat. An envelope with her name on it, torn along the long edge, with a letter inside. Unresisting, I extracted the paper and read his words to her.
What a jerk, I thought. He didn’t even have the courage to confront her and confess his reasons for desertion.
When I’d read his excuses for leaving her to bring up their kids, I understood why she had discarded the letter or not exercised sufficient care to keep it safe.
I obliterated his lies with my lighter.