Spring After A Cold Winter

here with my box of discarded memories. A flicker of something-surprise? guilt?-crossed his face before he quickly looked

. I hailed a taxi, the city lights blurring through the windo

the kitchen. I cooked his favorite meal, honey-glazed ribs, the familiar motions a strange comfort i

er? Made your favorit

d dark. No reply. Of course, there was no reply.