When love dies, it stinks like anything else. There was no expression on his face after she made that profound statement. He just sat there silently with his head lowered, and his suitcase by his side. There were no signs, no red lights, no warning signals that she could recall, yet love had passed away without her even giving it a proper burial. All that was left was the shell where it once dwelled. She puffed on her cigarette and looked at him. When had he turned grey? He looked much older than she remembered, and tired. She couldn't remember the last time they made love. Was it last month after his office party, or six months ago on his birthday. She wasn't sure. As he stood up to leave, she felt outraged that he had the audicity to leave her after fifteen years of marriage, but she didn't know how to stop him. She watched him walk to the door, open it, and then close it behind him. She was dazed for a moment, then finally got up and walked to their bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Her eyes settled on the book by the nightstand, that she had been reading. It was her favorite, "Gone With The Wind. " She picked it up slowly and open it to where she had left off. She was at the end of the story, where Scarlett watched Brett leave. She remembered Scarlets words. She would get Brett back, she didn't know quite how but she would. She would worry about that tomorrow......."Tomorrow was another day." She closed the book and smiled...she would not worry about what had just happened to her...she would be like Scarlet, and worry about that tomorrow!