The takeout containers felt heavy, each one a burden she suddenly couldn't quite manage. Sarah clutched them tighter, knuckles white, as if she could squeeze the information back into the voicemail. Liam was leaving. Across the country. For a job. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. The air felt thick, heavy with the implied absence. She nearly tripped on the uneven pavement, a stumble that felt like a prelude.
The apartment was too quiet. Always. But now the silence pressed in, amplifying the absence of the other shoe, the other voice, the shared laughter that had become a structural part of her life. She set the food down on the table, the bright colors of the Thai food seeming to mock the dull ache in her chest. She found herself staring at the two chopsticks he always took, even when he only ordered one dish.
She sat, picking listlessly at her noodles, the flavors muted. Each bite felt like a chore, a hollow imitation of the meals they usually shared. The emptiness was a physical presence, a cold spot in the warmth of the room, as though Liam had already vacated the space. She’d always relied on him for movie choices. Now, she didn’t even want to consider watching anything.