What Went Wrong in Our Relationship?

The question came while I was wiping crumbs off the table: what went wrong? Not during a dramatic cry. Not under a full moon. Just crumbs, a damp cloth, and the ugly suspicion that we had both been contributing quietly.

Five of Wands reminded me of our small competitions. Who was more tired. Who had tried harder. Who was being more reasonable. We rarely shouted. We specialized in civilized little injuries.

Seven of Pentacles looked like waiting beside a plant nobody had watered properly. We kept checking whether the relationship was growing while forgetting to do the boring maintenance that growth requires.

Justice was the card I did not want. It asked for proportions. My part. His part. The part that belonged to timing. The part that belonged to cowardice. The part where I called silence peace because conflict made me feel unsafe.

The Hanged Man made me think of all the times we stayed suspended instead of choosing. Suspended is comfortable for about nine minutes. After that, it becomes a lifestyle with bad circulation.

I wrote down one fight from last winter. We were arguing about dishes, which means we were not arguing about dishes. He said, "It's not a big deal." I said, "Fine." Both of us lied in different fonts.

What went wrong was not one thing. It was accumulated laziness around truth. It was my hints and his withdrawals. My tests and his politeness. Our ability to look functional while the floorboards softened underneath.

At 11:58 p.m. I found a fork under the couch. I have no memory of how it got there. It felt like the relationship had left props everywhere.

I washed the fork and left it in the drying rack. I did not know what else to fix.