An ending.

I had dinner with Rachel last night.

It was a celebration.

I took her out to a very nice restaurant around the corner from this apartment I'm hoping to rent, and over desert (which was a warm chocolate brownie covered in peppermint ice cream) I decided to let her know what we were celebrating.

"I went to City Hall this morning..."

She barely paused while reaching for another spoonful of brownie. Then she glanced up. "You filed?"

"Yup."

"So, you took me out to celebrate our divorce?"

"Yup."

I gave her the papers then.

There is a waiver for her to sign so that things go smoothly and the process is accelerated. She seemed happy to handle her end of things. Not surprisingly there wasn't an ounce of sentimentality, remorse, or culpability. She seemed eager, as always, to blame me for everything that had happened. I didn't feel like taking it, though. I called her out; let the anger and hurt take over as I listed out her bad behavior. We walked back to our neighborhood together in silence; going our separate ways with a briefly cold 'goodbye'.

I mourn the loss of my story. And I celebrate a new beginning in my life.