Your mom’s selling her house, your house. She called me up, needed some help with the toilet in her bathroom. Always hated fixing other people’s plumbing (kinda goes without saying) but I didn’t say no to her, I never could. She was the gateway to you…

She made me lunch when I finished up, telling me about her garden and her bridge club. There was something sad in the way she talked, and I wondered if the sad was for me. I wanted to tell her I was fine, that life was good. In my head I could hear myself selling it like some commercial, but I never did say it out loud.

Sitting in your old living room, I wondered if the world would end this way, everything the color of dirt, and sunlight squirreling its way through broken blinds. Couldn’t help thinking that it looked brighter when you were here.