remained cold.
The furnace hummed quietly downstairs.
David had adjusted it years ago so it wouldn’t rattle.
Of course he had.
In the morning, Marcus would come.
Karen would call.
I would eat breakfast.
I might read for an hour.
And slowly, almost imperceptibly, winter would begin moving toward spring.
For the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.
There are kinds of love that announce themselves loudly.
And then there is another kind.
The kind that notices the draft around a door.
The kind that remembers
