Tabitha Stay With Me ✯

The rain softens. Just a little. Just enough to hear her breathe.

“You don’t get to say that anymore,” she says. Her voice is quiet, but the rain makes everything louder. “You had a thousand mornings to say it. A thousand nights when I was right there, in the bed next to you, and you chose the other room. You chose the TV. You chose the goddamn crossword puzzle.” tabitha stay with me

“Then let me be late,” I say. “Let me be late and awful and whatever else I’ve been. But don’t leave. Don’t get in that car. Because once you do—” My throat closes up. I swallow. “Once you do, you take everything. The good mornings. The burnt toast. The way you hum when you think no one is listening. You take all of it, and I’ll be standing in this doorway for the rest of my life, saying it to no one.” The rain softens

She drops the suitcase.

Now the silence is different. It’s the sound of rain hitting her shoulders. The sound of her not turning around. “You don’t get to say that anymore,” she says