a P
eyes. I took a hot shower, the steam doing little to warm my chilled
bela were gone, presumably to their new city apartment. I found myself relieved by their
rangements. I checked the calendar. Only a few days left. And
final gift to him, I thought, a bitter smi
of my old clothes and books were donated. As the donation service personnel si
ere, Cora?" he ask
two men with a nod. "Just clearing out
ing room. "You've changed," he murmured, a flicker of som
abruptly, "Isabela and I have moved into our new ap
, it would be quiet wi
. "Are you... are you having a birthday party this year, Cole?" I look
back to me, and walked away, pulling a small suitcase behin
e bottom drawer of my nightstand. My hand closed on empty air. The drawer where I used t
ulled it out. Every page was filled with him.
Cora." I remembered him pinning a gold medal to my chest after my cello recital. "You'
memories out, one by one
This year, there would be no drawing of us. Instead, I picked up a pencil. I began to sketch. Co
ock downstairs. Cole. He s
rushed down the stairs, r
nt of whiskey and his cologne filled my senses. His hand slid up my bac
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