I will escape. I will do it tomorrow. And when I do, you won’t even know. I don’t want any fuss. And I won’t say bye. And you will be free. But really it won’t be. It’ll feel like forgetting a name you used to say every day — not gone, just misplaced in the dust between heartbeats. You’ll keep setting the table for one too many. The house will hold its breath in odd corners. I’ll live in the silence after your laugh. You’ll call it peace. But we’ll both know it’s something else.