I laughed, nervous. But I was tired. I wrote on the tag: “Guilt. Regret. The memory of her leaving.” I placed it outside my door and fell into a sleep deeper than death.
I stood. My shoulders were light. My chest was hollow in a way that felt like a clean room instead of an empty one. I walked to the front door. The grandfather clock ticked forward for the first time. eva notty bed and breakfast
I walked toward the sea, and I did not look back. I laughed, nervous