Divorce is a towering rogue wave sufficient to rend asunder half a lifetime's promises, hopes, and dreams.
Divorce is a muddled muttered mantra of repeated regret.
Divorce is a long lonely road in the middle of nowhere, inevitably heading somewhere, albeit only god-knows-where.
Divorce is an explosion of great magnitude resulting in the complete and utter destruction of all familiar things, leaving behind only charred scattered remnants and thoroughly annihilated particles.*
I conferred what feels as if it could be one of the last physical reminders (that and this apparently indelible and resistant-to-all-lasers ring-finger-tattoo on my left hand) of my now defunct 28-year marriage to the good folks at the bike shop this week.
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