When he’s Had Enough, which happens

every three months or so, he packs his suitcase.

Flinging stuff in with bravado, making a scene.

He packs towels and all. Really trying to sell it—

I’m Leaving for Good. Sometimes, he’ll even lug

the suitcase down the stairs and outside and he’ll

deposit it in the truck of the car. It’s rare, but now and

again he’ll actually drive away. Most often, though,

he packs the suitcase, zips it up, fastens the straps, locks it,

then he goes and has a smoke or two. And then he unpacks.

Putting everything back where it belongs.