we did it before there were kids in the middle to make everything complicated-Edgar Keret

Now a short story by Edgar Keret.

     It is hardest at night.Don't get me wrong, though. I am saying  I miss her most at night...because I don't miss her,full stop.But at night, when I am alone in bed, I do think about her.Not warm fuzzy thoughts abut all the times we had.More like a picture of her in knickers and a T-shirt, sleeping her mouth open leaving a circle of saliva on the pillow, and of myself watching her.What did I actually feel then I was watching her?First of all amazement that I was not turned off, and after that, a sort of affection. Not love,Affection.The kind you feel towards an animal or a baby more than towards a wife.Then I cry.Almost every night.And not out of regret.I have nothing to regret.She's the one who left.And looking back, our splitting was good, not just for her, for both of us.And it is even better that we did it before there were kids in the middle to make everything complicated.So why should I cry?Because that is just how it is.When something gets taken away from you,even if it shit,it hurts.When a tumour is removed,you are left with a scar.And the best time to scratch it seems to be night.