“Please don’t leave,” she tells him. His lips don’t part, even for a breath. He packs his clothes, clumsily folding his shirts and tossing them in his suitcase. His pants are rolled up and shoved inside, the entire sock drawer just upheaved and emptied.
She grabs at his clothes and tries to unpack, there is a lot of crying, grabbing at articles of cloth. Eventually, though, he manages to get all his things in his suitcase, despite the resistance.
“I’m sorry,” she says, again and again. She pulls at his shirt and tells him she loves him. He’s so sick of this happening again and again. It’s exhausting. He tells her that he’s taking the first boat off the country. She asks him to think this through, and he does.
He leaves her, though the exit was abrasive, he tells her not to worry, time heals.
He reaches the harbor in several hours, after a coffee and a cigarette. He notices her sitting on a bench, smiling at the boats and dock, which are now on fire.
“The airport’s next.” She tells him, still smiling.