More, and Less

More S today, but not 'til the end.

I was walking back from the mission, reflecting on an unpleasant event that had happened while we were gone. I couldn't help but be reminded of something I had written to D, the man with whom I discovered S was cheating. When I discovered. That one message. You don't know about it yet, because it's in Part One. And I don't have Part One, because she has it. That's why this whole bloody thing starts with Part Two.

That was unpleasant, but only for a minute. It passed, that pang in my heart. I've since come to believe that its brief nature, this time, was due entirely to me being here, and not there. I even chuckled, a little, as it came to pass. Mine was the laugh of a man resigned.

And that's the point: I'm resigned because I fully realize I can't do a damned thing about it. The home me would have been compelled to send an "I miss you" email or text message to S; another desperate panicked attempt to maybe-fix-everything-just-this-one-last-time. Again. I certainly do miss her. But here, somewhere I'd rather not be, I won't say a fucking word. It doesn't change anything. Nor would telling her.

I'm still alive, though.