Friday Fictioneers
Still Here
The second chair remained empty.
People told her she should move it, repaint it, stop waiting beside ghosts. But every Thursday evening, she carried her tea to the lake and sat exactly where they once sat together.
Storm clouds gathered above the island, dark and heavy, but she stayed.
“You’d have liked the sky tonight,” she whispered.
The wind shifted gently, brushing her shoulder like a familiar hand.
She smiled without turning.
Some love leaves the room.
Some love simply changes chairs.
With love
— Maggie The Afterlove Voice 💫
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