There’s a napkin on the counter, crumpled, bleeding ink and coffee stains... It says... "I tried, but I couldn’t stay." ... The radiator clicks like a busted metronome, out of time. out of place. Rain slides down the window; not like veins, not like anything. It's Just rain. I light a cigarette. It burns uneven. There’s a moment after someone leaves; like the buzz of a blown-out speaker. You can’t turn it off, so you just sit there. The cracks where we stood; they linger. Scattered glass on the floor, an apology scrawled on a receipt. The cracks where we stood; they buzz, like old guitar strings, sharp and out of tune. The napkin isn’t a map, or a secret, or a symbol. It’s just a napkin. I left it there, didn’t even fold it. Your coat’s still on the chair, but I don’t move it. Rain smells like the sound of goodbye. The sound of goodbye Goodbye I tried to write it down; what it felt like when the door shut. But the words wouldn’t stay. So I wrote nothing. And maybe that’s all this was. The cracks where we stood, they linger. Scattered glass on the floor, an apology on a receipt. The cracks where we stood, they buzz, like a cigarette burning too fast, like something you can’t fix. Your coat’s still on the chair. I left it there. I don’t need anything else.