The early morning light was just starting to filter through the blinds as I sat at the kitchen table, a mug of lukewarm coffee before me. The house was quiet, save for the low hum of the fridge and the distant sound of traffic. I glanced at the calendar on the wall. It was Wednesday, though it felt like any other day in a long stretch of sameness.
Scrolling through my phone, I shook my head at a string of silly texts from my brother. His jokes were the kind only he found funny, yet they always managed to make me smile. Today, though, there was an underlying strain I couldn’t shake.
The house still felt empty since my parents moved out months ago. Mom left behind a lot, not wanting to deal with it. Dad returned to his routines, leaving me to clear out the boxes. Among them, I found old photo albums and letters that made me pause.
