I stood in the kitchen, the mug warm in my hands, steam curling like breath in the morning air. Outside, the world was still quiet.

No birds yet. Just the hush before people start their engines and spill coffee on their shirts.

The blinds were half-closed, slicing the soft light into strips.

It landed right on the counter, right on our wedding photo — me in that old lace dress, Lance in a gray suit that never quite fit his shoulders.