The fridge hummed its
low, familiar song. She
traced the condensation on
a glass of water,
watching the drops slide
into the dark.
"Are you still awake?"
She didn't answer. The
phone screen glowed on
the counter, a message
left unread. The hum
continued, steady as a
heartbeat she refused to
count.
She opened the fridge and
stood in its cold light.
The milk was half empty.
The leftovers were wrapped
in foil. Everything was
where it should be.
She closed the door. The
dark returned, soft and
complete. She ran her
finger along the counter,
gathering dust, letting
it fall.
The night held its breath, and she held hers too.