the next

-

en: Bitters

tretched thin by grief. The café felt colde

ne afternoon, setting a tray of c

e. "Why wouldn't I

her day, a rhythm her heart had synced with. Now, wit

lling sugar jars, pretending not to glance toward

assed. T

folded envelope taped to the back office door. No retu

was a

Ta

ed to. I left because I didn'

art of my routine. Yo

th

his cologne still faintly clinging to it. For the fi

didn't

e note into her notebo

stomer. The lease expired, and with no one abl

s, her memories-and walked out with a quiet goodbye

now where Et

at he w