The morning light crept through a blanket of dull clouds, caught between rain and stillness. A soft mist clung to the glass panes while I stood motionless in the kitchen. The coffee maker gave its final beep, but I didn’t move. I wasn’t ready—for warmth, for focus, or for the echo of last night.
A pair of freshly polished shoes sat by the door, untouched since yesterday. They felt misplaced now. Quiet reminders of an evening that began in celebration but ended in silence. There’d been no voice calling my name after I slipped away. Only the hum of the radiator. The distant bark of a neighbor’s dog. No one noticed I had left before the first dance ended.
