The Note on the Counter

He left the note sitting on the island counter top where, by the time she woke up, it had gathered a small pool of sunlight to itself from the window above the sink.

The sight of it took her breath away in a sickening whoosh when she stumbled from her bedroom.

Dear Cass, it read, thanks again for all you do. Sorry if I got a bit drunk and carried away. You know how I am when Im warmed up. You’re always a peach when I need you though, and I’m thankful for that. It always warms my heart— these dream moments where we promise each other forever. Sometimes, I wish the morning wouldn’t come.

Anyways, it’s back to reality for me! I forgot I had something this morning.

Let’s not let it go so long until next time.

Owen.

P.S. The carne asada was delectable. You always hit the spot.

Cass stands barefooted on the kitchen tiles oblivious to the remaining whiff of last night’s dinner lingering in the air. She stares at his words until they grow blurry. When she finally stirs, she sees the pool of light has left the island counter top and the room has grown gray.

The heat of anger and foolishness creeps along her cheekbones, and she crumples the note in her fist. The trash can closes over it with a metallic bang.

© 2022 Katie Baker


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