The Silent Witness
On the desk, that little packet from the pharmacy still sat unopened.
I looked at it and almost laughed. I had bought it thinking it symbolized readiness — for intimacy, for closeness, for the physical return of love. But now, sitting beside her, I understood it was never about that.
What I really wanted wasn’t the body — it was the presence. The quiet hum of her breathing next to me. The weight of her hand over mine. The certainty that, finally, I wasn’t alone in the room anymore.
