Relationships The Only Way Out Is Through Photo illustration by Slate. Photos by Getty Images Plus. This is part of Breakup Week . We just can’t do this anymore. The oat milk sat in the fridge for weeks, untouched. I don’t usually drink oat milk, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out. As a rule, I rarely discard perfectly edible food, but more than that, I just wanted to hold on to a piece of him. I knew he wasn’t coming back. I knew it was my oat milk now. But somehow, the reminder of him, every time I opened the fridge, even if I saw that blue-gray carton just out of the corner of my eye, was a relief. So was his digital detritus—his account next to mine when I opened YouTube or HBO Max, as well as apps he had downloaded to our TV. I’ve kept all of them too. I open my closet and see shirts that he didn’t want and didn’t bother to throw out. I sleep on the same side of the bed that I did when he was in it with me, rarely crossing over the center line to what was, and
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