Chapter Sixty-Six.

With a resounding yell, Joan tossed all his belongings to the corridor in a distant heap and she saw them through hazy eyes. Clutching around her hands, a tear fell down her eyes and she sniffled through her crimson-tipped nose.

She had spent the rest of the night reeling in what seemed to be a break up with Ivan. But why did it hurt so much even if they weren't together—even if they didn't belong to each other. Joan felt heartbroken coming home to see his stormy grey cardigan and his headsets which she'd acquired from him.

He was everywhere in her apartment even when he wasn't here.

She could scent his thick cologne and taste him, and he had things at every post and corner which all sort of became clear now that they were over—everything including his toothbrush she had dumped by her door for when he would come back for them.

And after thoroughly ravaging her entire drawers and closet until she was sure that every shredded reminder of him was gone, Joan closed her to lean against it.