By Dora Estela Gonzalez
I love you.
Three words full of emotion and yet as empty as the rest of the paper they were written on. I stared at the note left on the dresser and glanced at the now half empty closet, the empty spot where a pair of female shoes had been only a few hours before. A rage ran through me and I crumbled the confession of love, the three words that both said she had been the one and a mistake.
I love you.
How could those words hurt and fail to bring comfort? How could those words be the only thing to welcome me when I returned to the room after fetching a pail of ice? I tossed the note into the trash and reached for my coat. I left the hotel not bothering to properly pack my things. I jumped into my car and drove until the gas meter light came on, demanding my attention.
I love you.
I thought I wanted this.
I’m sorry.
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Dora Estela Gonzalez is currently working on her third novel. She enjoys writing the occasional short story, dabbing in flash fiction, getting lost in a video game, and hunting down the next book to fall in love with.
