Camila sat with him a little while longer. No more talking — just the sound of the neighborhood outside the window: birds, a distant engine, a dog barking down the street.
Eventually, she pulled back gently.
"I'll be in the parlor. Call me if you need something, okay?"
Billy nodded.
She touched his shoulder before leaving — light, protective — then quietly slipped out, closing the door behind her.
The silence returned. But this one felt… heavier.
Billy sat alone, elbows resting on his thighs, his fingers clasped together like he was trying to hold something in.
He stared at the floor. At the sunlight slanting through the window. At nothing.
His eyes didn't move much, but inside, everything did.
He stood slowly and walked toward the window — the same one he looked out of this morning. The city was alive, breathing without him.
He leaned his forehead against the cool glass.
Then, under his breath—
"What if I forget him…"
