Small Acts of Murder: Shame, Religion, and What We Owe Each Other

Years ago, I broke up with someone abruptly. She and my friend were over. The two began arguing. Upset, she ran outside into the rain. My friend commented that she was being ridiculous, that I should break up with her. I’m not usually so impressionable as to take such an action based on an offhand comment, but I had been feeling a little uncomfortable in this new relationship. While she was pleasant, kind, and beautiful, the relationship had mostly been physical and I was troubled that she hadn’t told me much about herself—although I had been asking. I was young and new to relationships, with all of the anxiety that accompanies inexperience. I found her standing at the end of the street, crying. If this happened today, I’d say something reassuring. I’d comfort her, bring her inside, and explain how I had been feeling at a better time. Instead, I looked into her tearful eyes and ended it then and there. I was young, inexperienced, and scared. I really just wanted to get to know her…