The thing about staying home in the day is noticing everyone else alive at this hour. Trucks rumbling across the street, old men on their rickety bikes, the leaves rustling in the January wind, and the birds out chirping.
As they pass me by, I’ll remember those days – the smell of fresh laundry, the warm breeze caressing my hair and the touch of your hand against my cheek.
“We were together. I forget the rest.”
