Dusting off absence

The smell of lemon cleaner, sharp and bright,

hit me in Aisle 5, a sudden, cold snap.

Took me right back to her place.

Every surface wiped, every corner fought,

against the dust that claimed everything

as its own.

Her slippers, still under the bed,

like she'd just kicked them off.

An open book on the nightstand,

bookmark still in place.

We cleared it all, piece by piece.

But the air, that heavy, unused air,

still hung around, no matter what we sprayed.