Hearing Her Voice
Her body was barely cold and already I was swamped with piles of important documents and bills.
I didn’t have the courage to go through her stuff yet. It was easier just to turn off the lights and let her presence linger in the apartment. Her place remained empty and dark for months.
I still paid her phone bill so I wouldn’t forget the sound of her voice on the answering machine. On the weekends my friends would drunk text their girlfriends but I would call her, hoping that she would pick up.
She never did, but I never stopped trying.
submitted at 2:26am
10 July 2010
Patrick Trotti's web: