There seemed no other conclusion.

Once she’d spoken the words “I don’t want to be married any more” there seemed no other conclusion. She couldn’t suck the words back.

CONCLUSION BY DESMA CAPUTO 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 97

She had carefully written her name, and his, on the forms. She’d taken time off from work and driven across town in godawful Phoenix traffic to the courthouse. She’d smiled and made small talk with the officers at the metal detectors. She had stood in line waiting to be called to windows where she was greeted or not by women whose faces all ran together but whose names, Pam, Bridget, Michelle, stuck with her.

Once she’d spoken the words “I don’t want to be married any more,” there seemed no other conclusion. She couldn’t suck the words back, couldn’t white out the words dark as thunderclouds.

Today she gathered her purse and paperwork from the table at the metal detectors, managed a brittle smile to the officer’s, “Have a good day.”

Only a handful of people stood in line. Pam took her paperwork wit…