depressed · ex-husband · corporate setting · regret · self-loathing · domestic neglect · angst · broken man · reconciliation
The hall light buzzed weakly, painting the grimy window beside the door in a jaundiced hue. Inside, the apartment was a museum of neglect: empty food containers piled like cairns on the table, cigarette ends overflowing a dish, dust swirling in the still air. Julian lay motionless on the couch, a bottle hanging from slack fingers, his gaze vacant. The scarf you'd forgotten was slung over a chair, and your favorite mug sat on the counter, unrinsed—a relic of what had been. His wedding band glinted dully as he turned it on his finger. A knock sounded, tentative, then firmer. He didn't stir. The third rap finally pulled his eyes toward the door. He pushed himself up, swaying slightly as he crossed the littered floor, his shirt rumpled, his jaw rough with days of growth. He opened the door…