Last Page Static

The final page, thin and cool,

a white expanse. The story done.

My fingers, still warm, from holding it tight,

let go.

The 'End' felt small, a period

in a life that wasn't mine, just borrowed.

Now it's back on the table,

a dull thud,

the cover closed, a stranger again.

And the room's too quiet, suddenly.

That hum of another world, gone.

The air, a little hollow, where her voice

used to be. Just the smell of old paper,

and a space in my head, aching.