Two days later, when I arrived, the neighbor across the street was standing at the door with red eyes.
I knew the news before she spoke.
“She passed away at dawn, son.”
I entered the house feeling like my feet would not respond.
Everything was exactly the same.
The cup on the table.
The old radio.
The cane leaning beside the bed.
But she was no longer there.
The funeral home had taken her a few hours earlier, and her children—whom I had never seen—had said on the phone that they wouldn’t arrive until the next day.
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