Stephen-
           I'll admit the past few days have been difficult- dishes and furniture and friends were divied up, and we began to try to make one life into two separate existences.  I don't think you ever wanted to look at me again when after I took the painting from the hallway, and even though you took the dog you were angry.

            There were a lot of things like that, where I took mine and you yours, and even more times where we fought over things that were ours.  And the house, where we had both lived for such a very long time without much complaint, was suddenly a crushingly small place whose walls kept closing in.  You were angry that I spent so much time reading in the living room, complaining that when I was there you couldn't stand to be there as well.  It was sad, really, that when you decided to sit in the kitchen all day you thought I would stay away also.  Did you think that a day of me not eating would make me more tolerable?  Or was it because you just wanted to force me into an apology you knew wouldn't come?

            So tonight, when you suggested we make a chart of all the rooms in the house, divide them into "yours" and "mine," I decided it wasn't worth it.  Please, don't come looking for my hotel.  I've taken all  the things that are really mine- yes, including the dog, you know he always liked me better- so whatever is left you can take.  Sign the papers when my lawyer brings them over tomorrow.
No Longer Yours,
           Caitlin