Where did you get that ring

mother’s empty chair.

I made coffee in my father’s old machine.

It sputtered like it was offended by grief.

Then I opened the cream envelope my mother had given me in the elevator.

Arthur had told me it was time.

Inside was a letter written in her careful, slanted handwriting.

My Isabella,

If you are reading this, then I cannot say these words to your face.continue reading …