The Fortress at the Graveside

January 12, 2026 by ucef

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I looked down at the ring on my finger. I had loved that ring. I had imagined a future built around it. Now it felt heavy. Restrictive.

I removed it and placed it gently on the table. The sound it made was small but final.

“You deserve each other,” I said.

My voice didn’t shake.

Then I left.

I drove until Ohio blurred into highway and rage. I requested the furthest transfer available. I wanted distance. Ocean. Rain. Somewhere the dust of that moment couldn’t follow me.

Washington State greeted me with gray skies and silence.

For six months, I lived in a small apartment that smelled faintly of damp carpet and old smoke. I ate ramen because it was cheap and required no decisions. My savings were gone, eaten by wedding deposits that would never come back.

I went to work. I did my job. I avoided people.