Gone

He has left me, and as I mechanically wash the clinking dishes, memories haunt me. I pick up a coffee cup with a drawing of a dog on the side, and as my soapy fingers brush the illustration, I hear a barking laugh, heartfelt. I jump, startled, letting it drop on the sink. My hands flutter to my chest and I look wildly behind and around me, but the kitchen is empty. Silent tears slide down my cheeks. I tremble as I pick the cup up again, but I don't hear his laugh anymore. To calm myself, I sing softly, a wordless tune made up of jarbled sounds pretending to be words.