Jay and I were married for eleven years. After he left for Ohio, the scraps of himself that remained--his old socks and razors, his hairs in the comb and fingernail clippings hiding in the carpet-- seemed hot with his life. I loved these remnants and the warmth they emitted. I walked around the apartment in his tennis shoes and tried to use his glasses for reading. I slept with his unwashed tee shirt and let the smell rub onto my sheets. I created the brief illusion that he was still there.
