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The Winter You Stood At The End Of The Platform
I saw you at the far end of the platform after the train had already begun to move and understood that whatever words I still carried would never catch up to you. Snow fell in small precise flakes that seemed to choose where to land and where not to. The iron roof above us groaned as the engine pulled forward and steam rose thick and white until it erased parts of the station. My gloved hand was lifted without purpose as if my body had not yet accepted the instruction my heart had already given. You did not turn around. You stood still with your back to me and your…
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What We Left Breathing Between Two Bells
I heard the second bell ring while my hand was still warm from yours and knew the door would close before I found the courage to stop it. The chapel smelled of cold stone and extinguished candles and the sound of footsteps faded down the corridor with a softness that felt deliberate. Light from the narrow windows lay in pale strips across the floor and never reached where we stood. Your face was half in shadow and half remembered already. I watched your mouth shape my name without sound and understood that silence was the last thing we would ever share without cost. By the time the bell finished echoing…
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The Night The River Forgot Our Names
I let go of your hand at the edge of the quay while the fog pressed close and the water took your reflection before I could memorize it. The sound of the river was low and patient that morning as if it had learned to wait longer than people do. Wood planks were wet beneath our shoes and cold climbed through the soles into my legs. You did not look at me when your fingers loosened. I felt the smallest pause where you might have tightened your grip and chosen another life. Instead your hand slipped away and the space between us filled with damp air and the faint smell…
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The Day The Wind Learned How To Wait
I felt your scarf slip from my fingers as the wind lifted it gently away and understood before I looked up that you had already chosen the sky over staying. The fabric fluttered once between us and then the air closed where you had been standing as if it had practiced this disappearance many times before. The overlook sat above the valley where fields blurred into distance and clouds dragged their shadows slowly across the land. Late afternoon light thinned and cooled and the smell of dry grass mixed with dust and stone. I stood at the edge with my hands empty listening to the wind move through tall weeds…
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The Night The Lake Kept Your Voice
I heard your voice travel across the water and fail to return and felt your fingers loosen from mine as the ripples spread without answering. The dock creaked once beneath our weight and then held only me and the dark where you had been standing. The lake lay still under a sky without stars. Pines ringed the water and held the cold close. The air smelled of iron and wet stone and the damp wood pressed chill through my coat. I stood at the edge listening for anything that might come back. The silence did not hurry. It settled as if it knew this moment by heart. By the time…
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The Winter When The Road Remembered You First
I watched your footprints fill with snow before you reached the bend in the road and felt your hand loosen from mine as if the cold had learned your shape and asked you to belong to it instead. The sound of your steps thinned and then disappeared and the quiet that followed felt practiced as though it had been waiting. The village lay under a clean white hush. Roofs bowed gently and smoke lifted straight from chimneys before vanishing. My breath clouded the air and settled on my scarf and the wool scratched my throat. I stood where the path narrowed and listened to the way winter holds sound until…
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The Evening The Clock Refused To Count Us
I heard the clock stop between one breath and the next and felt your fingers ease from my sleeve as if time itself had decided to let you go first. The second hand hovered without commitment and the room cooled around the space where you had been standing. The shop smelled of oil and old wood and rain carried in on my coat. Light from the streetlamp pressed through the front window and caught on a thousand small surfaces glass faces brass rims hairline cracks that had learned patience. I stood behind the counter listening to the absence of ticking settle into the walls. When I finally looked up you…
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The Morning Your Breath Left The Glass
I watched the fogged window clear where your breath had been and felt your warmth pull away from my shoulder as if the day itself had decided to take you back. The glass cooled under my fingers and the room settled into a silence that knew your name and would not speak it again. The apartment faced the harbor where boats slept against their ropes and gulls rehearsed their cries before sunrise. Pale light slid across the floor and found the places we had learned to stand together. The kettle clicked itself off without ceremony. I did not turn because turning felt like agreement. Somewhere behind me a floorboard eased…
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Where Your Shadow Learned To Say Goodbye
I felt your shadow lift from the wall before your body moved and knew the room would never hold us the same way again. The candle flame bent toward the door as if following you and when it straightened I understood that whatever had kept you here had already begun to loosen. The room smelled of salt and old wood soaked with years of tide. Outside the lighthouse the sea breathed in long patient pulls and released itself against the rocks below. Wind threaded through the cracks and carried a low hollow sound that felt like listening. I stood with my back to the wall watching the place where your…
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After The Door Learned Your Weight
I felt the door close with the memory of your hand still on the handle and knew before I turned that you had not crossed the threshold with me. The latch settled into place with a sound too gentle for an ending and the air where you stood cooled as if it had been waiting to be emptied. The hallway smelled of old paper and dust warmed by afternoon light. Sun pressed through the narrow window and lay across the floor in a long pale stripe that did not reach my feet. I stood still listening to the building breathe around me and tried to understand how a space could…
