She dreamed of him, the first time in three months. The unsettling realization that she'd forgotten the way shoulders curved upward on the words "life's been fine" or the way he breathed just a little bit slower than other people.
She woke, hand searching the emptiness next to her.
She didn't get to say bye, see you soon?
So she got morningready.
When she got to her car it had been broken into. Loose change stolen, radio and notebook of poetry untouched.
More than one person had invaded her personal space that night, uninvited.