✻ ✻ ✻

There was something about the phone ringing after dinner, specifically after nine o’clock. It brought up an avalanche of thoughts beyond what she could control. Her mind would rush through the phone call ending, cancelling work for a while, booking the flight, subletting the room, not saying goodbye or why she was leaving. She could imagine hugging her mother and doing the work that needed to be done in the aftermath of his passing. She would be great at it all, the organising, the speech, the food on the table. She would be so good at everything because how she felt was ordinary. If you imagined it all so many times, is it still really a surprise? Imagining death was a relief.