Now the silence is different. It’s the sound of rain hitting her shoulders. The sound of her not turning around.
I cover her hands with mine. They are shaking. tabitha stay with me
The screen door claps shut behind us. The rain keeps falling. But inside, the kitchen light is still on. The two plates are still on the table. And for the first time in a long time, no one is standing in the doorway, saying goodbye to someone who is already gone. Now the silence is different
The wind shifts. A branch from the oak tree scrapes the roof like a fingernail down a chalkboard. I take a step off the porch. The gravel bites into my feet. I don’t care. I cover her hands with mine
The rain softens. Just a little. Just enough to hear her breathe.