Detritus

It was once joy that drew her to this corner. The gifts you gave her, lovingly laid out on a shrine to you. When you couldn’t be with her she would light her pomegranate scented candle, and let it burn. Every night she would do the same until you returned. She was living in a bubble, a bubble of you.
One night you came back from your latest exotic location and brought her another gift, the gift of a porcelain doll. As she placed it beside the wooden chest alter , she laughed and threw her arms around you and told you that this was a sign that you’d be together forever, even when your hair had turned grey, just like the doll. You knew that this would be a lie. You had loved her enough once, to tell her so.
She wouldn’t hear of it. No Moroccan beauty was going to take her place. The necklace you gave her began to weigh across her neck like a boa constrictor. You’d never seen such rage. The pearls lie there still, frozen in time, along with the detritus of your lives together.

She still has her shrine. Her smile has returned. She knows now that however much you want to leave her, you won’t. You can’t.