image

 

 

the card

 

curling at the edges

sellotaped to the wall

the spidery hand had written just a few short words

thanking unknown neighbours for their kind thoughts

 

as I stepped out of the lift, glancing at his door

I pictured him sitting alone

moist eyes staring at the empty room

 

is it better to be the one that goes, or the one that stays behind?