Toothache

Your mom sent you caramel candies in the mail. They're sitting here on the counter, and I can see the note still attached. Flowery script written onto glittery cardstock.

Happy Holidays, Katherine! Miss you lots. Love you!

-Mom

I'm not sure if they're out as an invitation or not, but I'm not sure I want to eat one anyway. Sticky, sticky things. Stuck in the teeth.

I'm staring at the caramels, wondering when you'll be back.

The house is quiet without you. Even the clock knows you're gone, because it stopped ticking. I can't hear it.

You left two days ago, your caramels sitting on the counter. Maybe you meant to take them with you. Maybe they were supposed to stay behind, just to prove that you'd be back.

I'm not sure what I'm doing here.

Standing, I take a handful of caramels. I wish they reminded me of you, but they don't. Your hair is too light, your eyes too dark. They don't look like anything.

All I can think about when I look at them is a toothache.

I don't think you meant to leave your caramels here.

I think you meant to leave me here.

And it worked, because I'm sitting here with a fistful of caramels, wondering if you're ever coming back.