Little half-moons on the table from last night’s wine glasses reflect the light from the window… bottle opener laying close. The wine bottle – still inhabited – occupies space in the fridge. Your towel hangs over the shower curtain… soap nearby on the tub. Your cup of water by the bed. Dice are on the table… score sheet reciting the last game we played.
Eventually I’ll have to wash it all away… like the wine glasses turned upside down in the drying rack. But for now, I’m holding on a little bit longer. Distracted by each item that reminds me of you. Maybe… just maybe. Those things left behind almost give the illusion you may walk back in through that door tonight.