The part I was not ready for was how ordinary everything stayed. The grocery store is full of items that still belong to a life with two adults making plans. The kids ask normal questions in voices that make my ribs hurt. I can keep the bills paid or I can breathe deeply, but not both on the same day. Her coat is still where she left it because moving it feels like agreeing with reality. I miss being the second person in a private language.
The Wall
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