Andrea

The first week was not what he envisioned. No crying jags, no casseroles brought by well-meaning friends and neighbors. Just a hollowed out sense of displacement, as if the familiar air was now water and he was expected to breathe through gills. Remembering to breathe took up most of his time now. The bottles piled up, and he resented them. Now empty, they were no longer welcome companions. They had the nerve to stay.