Kaitlynne Elizabeth

Moonflowers

It had been two months since you left when the package arrived. The knock had surprised me. I was sitting on the couch in your only knitted sweater- the one we bought on our second trip to chicago- rewatching “Sex and the City” for the third consecutive time, sipping a cup of lukewarm Earl Grey when crack, crack, crack. The sound of someone breaking their knuckles on our thin apartment door made my heart flutter and then pound.