and ordered fettuccine and tiramisu. A stranger at the bar smiled and told me I looked lovely. We shared dessert and a brief, kind conversation. He never called. That wasn’t,
the point The point was, for the first time in years, someone saw me. The next morning, I handed my husband divorce papers. He thought it was about the burrito. It never was. It was about being invisible for ten years. About doing everything alone while being in a marriage. I didn’t leave because he forgot dinner. I left because I finally remembered myself.