His black and efficiently small suitcase is open on the dining room table. He folds three pair of socks air force tight and tucks them in. Cigarette packs are layered over boxers and white T-shirts. He sits with his coffee and stares forward. A one-eyed cat comes to have her ears pulled. She purrs at him with her blind side, jumps onto the table, crawls into his case and curls herself tight. The shower is on in the bedroom. It is his wife. The coffee is drained. He drops the cat on the floor and zips to leave. At the door he yells, "Goodbye," to the woman still dripping in the bedroom. by Kirsten Olson