a P

eyes. I took a hot shower, the steam doing little to warm my chilled

bela were gone, presumably to their new city apartment. I found myself relieved by their

rangements. I checked the calendar. Only a few days left. And

final gift to him, I thought, a bitter smi

of my old clothes and books were donated. As the donation service personnel si

ere, Cora?" he ask

two men with a nod. "Just clearing out

ing room. "You've changed," he murmured, a flicker of som

abruptly, "Isabela and I have moved into our new ap

, it would be quiet wi

. "Are you... are you having a birthday party this year, Cole?" I look

back to me, and walked away, pulling a small suitcase behin

e bottom drawer of my nightstand. My hand closed on empty air. The drawer where I used t

ulled it out. Every page was filled with him.

Cora." I remembered him pinning a gold medal to my chest after my cello recital. "You'

memories out, one by one

This year, there would be no drawing of us. Instead, I picked up a pencil. I began to sketch. Co

ock downstairs. Cole. He s

rushed down the stairs, r

nt of whiskey and his cologne filled my senses. His hand slid up my bac