He could tell something was different
Every time he looked at her
She was always changing
First her hair, color, cut, style
Fingernail polish
Then it was the look in her eyes
A faded, jaded comparison to the lighted jewel that use to shine
Voice inflections, tastes
He could tell she was moving on
How did he broach the subject?
Who could he confide in that would care
She stopped sleeping
Her once, monthly girl night turned into twice
Then every other night she needed their "support"
Walk in closet became a hallow mausoleum
Still smelled like his favorite perfume
Strange calls coming in past midnight
"Just my mom." she would say
Leaving their bedroom whispering softly into the phone
He could tell things would never be the same