The futon was still unmade.
Amelia stood in the doorway, bagel in one hand, staring at the blanket that still held his shape. The scarf she'd wrapped around his head was folded on her desk.
The silence screamed.
She dropped the bagel into the trash and sat down, fingers pressed to her temples.
“Thank you. Forget me."
She tore the note in half.
Then again.
Then again, until the pieces fluttered to the floor like confetti at a funeral.
---
The next week was a blur of paperwork and exhaustion. Scholarship deadlines, class presentations, late shifts at the diner. No time to cry. No time to feel.
Until she did.
In the middle of an accounting exam, the invigilator's voice echoed: “Pencils down."
Amelia stared at the blank final question.
All she saw was his smile. The way he'd calle
