The Echo Of Your Name

It is almost funny how a single song can pull you into a room you are not in anymore. I am listening to the one you hummed while cooking, and now my kitchen feels like a memory instead of a place. I catch myself turning toward the doorway, waiting for the sound of your footsteps that never comes.

I keep glancing at the chair you always claimed, half expecting to find you there with that look — the one that says you are thinking something you will never say out loud. I miss you the way weather misses a season it has not earned back yet. Quietly, and all at once.