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Living in the suburbs, most of the roads I travel are arranged in a grid pattern, mostly 4-way or T-intersections. Sometimes they are at odd angles, but still usually on a grid.
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Your desk in our home office is vacant. Everything is just as you left it, minus you. It’s like you've been erased from the scene.
Christmas morning, everyone is here, minus you. Somehow it feels like our togetherness emphasizes your absence. We exchange gifts, smile at the grandkid’s glee as they open theirs. It seems all normal. Except you’re not here. Erased.
Christmas morning, everyone is here, minus you. Somehow it feels like our togetherness emphasizes your absence. We exchange gifts, smile at the grandkid’s glee as they open theirs. It seems all normal. Except you’re not here. Erased.