Today's OneWord: Gone

The cherries, gone. The blackberry jam, gone. A loaf of bread, gone. Nothing but sweet syrupy stickiness on the counter with tiny fingerprints leading across the wall.

I found him sleeping on the couch, the corners of his lips purple from his breakfast buffet. He was snoring. His white-blonde hair lay like a whirlwind against his pale head. I pulled an Afghan over him, drawing up his ankles in wool.

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