Scenes From The Moth House

If only she had known.
Perhaps she would never have gone home after all.
The summer heat draws out the heavy silence in the house, the drone of insects in the garden. His absence growing to enfold her days like a smothering presence.

In the weeks that followed
her certainty grows.
His memory no longer a faint ghost

It seemed there was always a third person with them.
His presence like a specter just over her shoulder,
in the corner of her eye.

Why had he come?
It would never be the same without her.
Her ghost shadows him at every turn.