I returned to the house on a Saturday with Laura and Marisol.

The rooms felt hollow without Kenneth’s things.

I stood in the bedroom and pictured eleven anniversaries, a dozen birthday breakfasts, arguments about laundry, and mornings when I’d believed everything would work out.

I didn’t deny those memories.

I simply stopped asking them to decide my future.

We packed items I wanted to donate and moved furniture to clean the floors.

Marisol opened the windows.