On Saturday, Diana hauled out a cardboard box and began surveying her apartment for items for Death Bear. Her ex had taken most of his stuff when he’d moved. The framed poster of his favorite movie was gone, as were a series of prints above the sofa, leaving silver hooks on the walls. He’d taken his clothes and music collection. But so much still remained, tucked away everywhere, like Easter eggs.

There was the green artichoke-shaped candle her mother had given him, the funny little white mug by the kitchen sink that had a mustache and skinny legs (which he had used to hold their sponge), a piece of white plastic shaped like a robot that he’d hung on her key chain, the Mr. T postcard he’d sent her that read “You Da’ Man” in shiny gold letters, an expensive brown corduroy blazer accidentally left behind, the maroon camping vest he’d given Diana one Christmas (which she decided to keep, arguing that practicality outweighed sentimentality on this specific item), a gray plastic Viking helmet he’d worn one Halloween, a black felt hat with one small flower he’d given her one winter, the iPod he’d bought her and engraved with the phrase “Diana’s anti-stress machine” for her long subway commutes, his ratty red backpack, and the four costumed rubber ducks he’d bought as a joke to line the back of their toilet. Diana threw most of this into the box for Death Bear.

Next she pulled out the top drawer from her dresser, dumping its contents on the ground. She sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the scattered letters, cards and photos. She must have gathered them in the drawer after the breakup and hadn’t looked at them until now.

She shuffled through the papers, stopping at a photo of her and her ex. Her eyes filled with tears, her face flushed. She gulped and sniffled, and sniffled again. Then she began to cry.

I joined her on the floor, rested my face on her shoulder and rubbed her back, feeling her ribs rise and fall with each sob. She shoved the last of the letters into the cardboard box.

That evening we ate pasta and oysters at a neighborhood Italian restaurant and wondered aloud if Death Bear would actually show up.