I thought I chose divorce as a subject because it was necessary, by which I meant there was still something unseen and unsaid about what was everywhere. I thought I chose divorce because of circumstances—my grandmother, my mother, my marriage. I had not chosen to inherit or live those stories of separation, but I had, and so the resulting calculations suggest: Shouldn’t I make use of them somehow? I took many small, precious objects that had belonged to my grandmother after she died, but the only one I keep on me everywhere I go, safe in a small zipped pouch, is her gold seashell measuring tape.

Divorce was the subject that chose me. Right inside it was everything I wanted and feared the most: decisions and choices, isolation and entrapment, loneliness and romance. The terror of wondering what story my life would be was a perfect distraction from wondering why life needed to be a story.