The Closing

I'm sitting in my car in the work parking lot

pretending to scroll through my phone.

I said something I can't unsay.

My partner closed their eyes

and the silence happened.

Not the silence of thinking.

Not the silence of space.

The silence of someone leaving

while still sitting next to you.

Their breathing changed first.

Became something they had to think about.

Deliberate. Controlled. Like

if they stop concentrating for a second

they might scream or cry

or say something worse than what I said.

I watch the building. Watch people

coming and going with their arms full.

My phone glows in my hands.

I'm not looking at anything.

Just at my own face in the black screen.

The silence is still happening.

My partner's eyes are still closed.

And I'm still sitting here,

still holding this phone,

still hoping if I don't move,

the moment won't become permanent.

But it already has.