Ethan
The door closes softly behind her… and the silence that remains isn't awkward. It's different. It's a profound silence. As if her presence still lingers in the air, as if the house hasn't quite accepted that Clara is no longer here, at least not yet.
I finish getting organized more calmly; I still have plenty of time. But I feel I've used it wisely.
I go downstairs and say goodbye to my wife; she's hurrying off with her coffee in hand. I stand for a few seconds, looking toward the entrance… as if she might return at any moment because she forgot something. I smile slightly… Always so rushed… and always so herself.
I walk slowly toward the kitchen, running my hand through my still-damp hair. The warmth of the shower lingers on my skin, but what I truly feel… is something else.
