The woman you love is crying by the door.

She used to seem so perfect, and that notion has long since gone, but even so this isn't what you expected. You've never seen her this way before. You couldn't imagine it. It's never crossed your stupid mind that she could be anything but happy, and now she's not, and you can finally see that it's your fault.

You take her in, her crinkly blue dress with her hair soft around her shoulders. Her eyes are closed, she is silent, but this can't fool you.

And you start to cry, too.