I stood up and picked up the coffee pot. My hands were finally steady. I walked back to the kitchen, but I didn’t look at the other tables. I just stared at the wall.

Lloyd left a few minutes later. I didn’t try to stop him. There was nothing left to say that wouldn’t make the pain feel even sharper.

I went home to an empty house. I sat at my kitchen table and looked at the clock. It was 11:45 AM. I had lived a whole lifetime in two hours.

I went to the drawer where I keep my old photos. I found the one of the two of us at the dime store. We looked so young. We looked so hopeful. I looked at the picture until my eyes burned, wondering if we ever could have made it.

The truth is, it doesn’t matter. The letter was a ghost, and we were just two old people living in the wreckage of a lie. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat in the dark, finally understanding that the worst part of losing someone isn’t the goodbye. It’s the wondering if they ever actually left.