Maria.
I sat quietly on the edge of the bed, my hands resting limply on my lap while my thoughts refused to stay still. They wandered, circling endlessly, touching things I wasn't ready to name. The room was silent, yet it felt full, of presence, of echoes, of him. My gaze drifted slowly around, taking in every detail Daniel had left behind without realizing it spoke volumes about him.
The room was neat. Almost obsessively so.
Nothing was out of place. The chair by the small table was pushed in perfectly, the curtains drawn evenly, the sheets beneath me smooth and unwrinkled except for where I sat. Even the books stacked near the shelf were aligned with care, their edges forming a straight line as though measured deliberately. This might not be his actual room, I knew that much, but the way the guest chamber was arranged told me more than words ever could.
