  She left me Keep an eye on your email. I'll be in touch. That was the extent of my Dear John letter last night. I come home to find the water spigot out back broken and spewing water - it had been doing so for at least 70 minutes, based on the file creation time of that letter she left for me in notepad on my desktop. Her computer was gone, a bunch of boxes were gone, her shelf was cleaned off, her bike was gone, and there was no trace of her except that letter.
Shortly after I got home, the police showed up to check on me. She had notified the police, but not left any contact information. I like the way she cares, you know? Yeah, have the police go check on me, but if I'm hurt or missing, so what, she doesn't care enough to have some way of them contacting her to let her know. I call her work and talk to Jon, and get the number for Lori - a friend of hers whom I know she's familiar with enough to go over to her house and use her shower. I don't like Lori. She's the one Diamond was going to replace over at the Madill Record, but then her boyfriend left her, pregnant and all, so she's still hanging around over there. She's going to be there when Ariel leaves. Ironic, huh? She's a bad influence, though. She's not Christian, she's obnoxious, and she has the Feminazi vendetta against "men" in general. I don't like her, but in an effort not to be a dictator of Diamond's time, I don't say anything about the times they've gone out together. Nevermind that she has tried to tempt Diamond to do things I will speak up about behind my back.
I call Lori's place, and Diamond answers, and, indignantly as though I don't even have the right to speak to her, she demands "How did you get this number? " She doesn't want to talk to me, she won't tell me what's going on, other than she needs some time separated from me so she can decide whether or not she wants to divorce me.
Lori won't bring her home, she won't come home, they won't give me the address so I can come get her, and I was to be left in the dark, not knowing what was going on, not knowing if she was safe, not knowing where she was. I can not live like this. I will not tolerate her temper tantrums, running away from home when she doesn't get her way.
She's mad because I don't want her to get a tattoo, and because we're about to move. She, of all people, who whined and complained for a year and a half about this place, this state, this house, everything , wants to stay because she has friends here. Nevermind that I have no work here, nevermind that we have no family here, nevermind that we have no church here, no.. her friends are more important than all of that, and so if she can't have her way, she's going to punish me for wanting to do the right thing and move. 
