And then she made another trip to the Jeep to retrieve more of the bags.

And she brought them up onto the porch.

And then made a third trip.

And then a fourth.

And then a fifth.

And then a sixth.

And then a seventh.

Lendall made his way up the steps and onto his porch while Gayle shuttled back and forth. And when she dropped off the last of the bags, Lendall asked Gayle, “So this is…”

“All the love you gave me, yeah.”

Lendall opened one of the bags.

Sure enough, it was the love he had given her.

Lendall took in the massive pile of shapeless, almost weightless bags that had accumulated. And was maybe a little proud of how much love he had given Gayle. And observed, “This is a lot.”

“Yup,” said Gayle curtly, and she turned and made one last trip to the driveway.

“A whole lot,” called Lendall.

“Yup,” replied Gayle, and she grabbed Lendall’s old army duffel. And dragged it up the steps and onto the porch and dumped it in the old Adirondack chair Lendall sat in when the weather was nice.

And it landed with a thud—on the chair. And in Lendall’s heart.

Lendall looked at his old army duffel. And presumed that it was full of all the stuff he had been keeping at Gayle’s—other stuff that Gayle was returning.

And he realized that Gayle was serious about being done.

And he had no idea why.

And he needed to find out why.

But before he could ask her why, Gayle said, “And now, I think it’s only fair for you to give me mine back, because … I want it back.”

Lendall felt his chest tighten. And his breath got shallow. And he felt like he might throw up a little. Because he didn’t want to give her back all the love she had given him. At all.

“So go get it,” ordered Gayle.

“Gayle—why?”

“I told you: we’re done.”

“But I don’t wanna be done!”

“Well, it seems like you do, and—”

“I don’t!”

“Well, I do!”

“Why?!?”

Gayle ignored the question and went on. “So don’t make this harder than it has to be. Go get what I came for. Now.”

Lendall held his arms out, palms up, and shrugged and started to plead with his longtime love. “Gayle—”

“Please, Lendall. Go get it,” snapped Gayle, not entertaining Lendall’s plea.

Lendall dropped his arms and shoulders in defeat. Because Gayle was giving him no choice but to do what she had asked. Because she had decided that they were done. And the subject was not up for discussion.

Lendall wondered what he had done to make Gayle want to be done.

He couldn’t think of anything.

But he must have done something that had hurt her in some way.

And he almost asked for her forgiveness for whatever he had done.

But what if he hadn’t done anything—and she just wanted to be done?

His heart sank. And he ultimately decided that maybe the best thing he could do was honor Gayle’s request. And get what she had come for. Maybe if he did that, she’d calm down and help him understand why she wanted to be done. And then maybe she’d give him a chance to make right whatever he had made wrong. Or fix whatever he had broken. Or plead his case. And then maybe she’d give him a chance to make her understand just how much he loved her—and maybe he’d be able to change her mind about wanting to be done.