Windows rattled louder once Lucas was gone. The walls held their breath a little longer each night.
It had nothing to do with leftover stuff - those boxes left behind vanished long before. What hit me was the distance now real, not measured in steps through dorm halls.
His paint-splattered workspace sat empty, unused. Sessions once fixed into my calendar like clockwork stopped appearing.
Over there, far off. Down under, past oceans. A dozen hours shifted ahead. Truly absent now. Fully vanished.
There I was, holding a cup of warm coffee, staring at the floor. A quiet moment stretched while thoughts bumped around inside my head. What did it mean, really? The air felt thick, like before rain. My fingers curled tight around the mug. Not sure if it was relief or just tiredness settling in.
Outside, a bird called once, then silence again. That feeling - hard to name - sat right in the center of everything.
