The last day
The next morning, I woke up alone. The room was quiet, lit softly by pale morning light filtering through the frost-covered window. The side of the bed where Nicole had slept was empty. The blanket, neatly folded. Her presence already reduced to a faint indentation on the pillow and a lingering warmth in the air. For a moment, I just lay there, eyes half-open, trying to piece together the dreamlike blur of last night. Her lips. Her hands. The way she kissed me like it meant something, and then vanished, as if it didn’t. I pulled myself up slowly, letting the cold air nip at my skin. I got dressed in silence, hoping I might find her in the kitchen, maybe curled up in one of the rocking chairs with her usual glass of water, or already helping someone make breakfast. But when I padded down
- Writer
