It has always been inevitable that you would leave, tonight, for the grocery store, and never come back. There has never been any other choice but for you to go, and for me to let you. You have always thrown your jacket over your shoulders and run across the street in the rain. There is no alternate dimension where you said, or I said, we’ll get the eggs tomorrow, it can wait, only the sound of falling rain for me, the squealing of brakes on the street outside. And in the distance, the sound of sirens, coming near, coming near.
Photo credit: Adam Gulkis