Tidying (February 2026)
The attic is warm as the afternoon sun slants through the dusty window. He stands still long enough for the past to settle around him. Boxes are stacked by weight, not importance. His handwriting, from previous decades, labelling the contents. He carefully sorts through the inventory. A broken watch. An empty photo frame. A plant that once grew toward him. He places the trash into a bag as he organises. He takes a pen that still works. Takes out his notebook. Keep: Winter coats, Vinyl records, Photo albums, Tool box (incomplete) The list calms him. It has margins. It has order. It asks nothing from him. Satisfied, he caps the pen and tucks the notebook away. There is a woman in the attic. She sits on a box, watching him Until the sorting is complete. She reaches her hand toward him, and he takes it without thinking, His left hand finding hers before consequence can enter the room. His right hand lifts the trash bag, and together they move toward the door. He stop...