She climbed into his duffle before he could begin packing. She was surprised it could accommodate her.

“Cut it out,” he yelled, giving the bag a gentle kick, “the bus leaves in an hour!”

The games had gotten old. He knew it was time. Truth was, she knew it too.

Emptying the dresser, he suddenly remembered their drunken midnight swims, and how he held her shaking skin. Moments like that were rare.

Now, they mostly fought. He liked making her angry, because he loved the way she looked walking away from him.

He was going to miss that.