I bought myself a handbag and two scarves. Because it has been six months and I have not given up.
"I like your necklace," says the gently beautiful woman behind the counter, the one whom I just heard telling someone else that her youngest is eight years old and oh-how-nice it is to have older children now.
"Are those charms for your children?"
"They are. And my husband."
That one that says 'my beloved.' That's the one that's his.
"Very beautiful. It's nice to have special things that represent something so personal."
And this is all I say.
Because sometimes it feels good to not tell the whole story, to save some of it for me, to not let the stranger in.
I let her think my family is whole.
I let her think the shopping splurge is to celebrate a sunny day.