She didn't get home until about 4:30 the next morning.  I was still up and I heard her come in.  I sat quietly, unseen, on the couch, listening to her tiptoe through the den and slip into our bedroom as silently as she could, ostensibly so as to not awaken me.  As soon as I heard her start to potty I put on my shoes and left.

Luckily, I did not have any school that day (Wednesday), because I was in no condition to attend classes.  I drove around for a while, then found a parking lot and just sat.  It was bitterly cold, so I bought a "fleece" blanket (100% polyester).

A little after noon she sent me a text message asking if she should take our son to our daughter's karate class, or if I would be back by then.  I did not reply.

About two hours later she called me.   I didn't answer.  She left a voicemail which sounded neither worried nor upset, and let me know that she was going to go ahead and take our son to the karate class.  I did not return the call.

I drove past the karate school at 6:30, saw that her car was there, and went home.  I checked my email, talked with a friend who is encouraging me to move on with my life, took a shower, dropped off a book I had purchased for my wife (which she seemed to really like), and left before they got back.

She sent me a text asking what my plans were so she could figure out about her school this morning.  I told her that I would be back later that night.  I came home just after 11:00 pm, worked on some French homework and surfed the internet until 3:00 am, then went to bed.  Somewhere around five o'clock in the morning I managed to drift off to a very fitful sleep.

She was still home.  We spoke very, very politely about absolutely nothing, then went to our respective schools.

One of the problems with the idea of me "moving on" is that I cannot really figure out what that means for me.  She has been the center of my world for almost sixteen years now.  I don't even know who I am without her, aside from very, very lonely.