It’s not difficult, only impossible.
I made the bed silently. I tucked the sheets just so beneath the corners of the mattress, folding them over so its weight would pin them tight. I folded the blanket, first in half, then in half again, then into thirds. I turned the pillows this way and that, until they were perfect.
I made coffee with trembling hands, the spoon spilling tiny grains onto the countertop, small streams of water missing the reservoir.
I drank it in front of the window, my teeth sore, my eyes still grainy with sleep.
I wished that I missed you.
