Please, just this time.
Someone take out my garbage and green bins for me.
I know it's the correct day because I heard my neighbour wheel theirs out.
It's dark.
And I'm tired and feeling sad.
It feels odd that tears are gathering beneath my eye lids, that preparing for garbage day has sent an arrow into my heart.
No longer saying "sleep well sweetie" each night and setting a single place at the dining table, hasn't so far brought tears.
It's odd how that works: the one-too-many-things.
It seems like my tears were gathered, just waiting to fall.
Waiting for this moment.
