Ethan
The office is quiet, too quiet. Before, silence helped me think, today it locks me up.
I take off my jacket and leave it on the chair. I walk to the window. The city is still there, in that strong rhythm that demands to move with it... Everything works. Everything is moving forward.
Except this.
"It wasn't just the work."
The phrase repeats in my head, over and over and over again... It was not only the agenda. It wasn't just the office, so what was it?
I lean against the desk, I remember dinners where she talked... and I answered without listening.
I remember decisions I made without consulting her, I remember social gatherings where I left her alone while I negotiated...
I remember assuming that she would always be there, always.
Maybe it wasn't that I wasn't there, maybe
