In the Condensation
I sit at the bar like it's a place I've been assigned like someone decided this is where I belong now between the low hum of strangers and the slow leak of time
The glass sweats in my hand I watch it more than I drink it like maybe if I stare long enough it will tell me when she stopped loving me
I take a sip anyway It burns, but not enough to matter nothing really competes with the way her absence presses against everything
There was a time her name filled rooms now it fills the silence instead settling into the spaces between breaths like something that refuses to be moved
I thought alcohol would soften it take the sharp edges off memory turn her into something distant manageable something I could step around
But she shows up clearer in the blur in the reflection of the glass in the way I reach for my phone and stop halfway through the motion
The bartender wipes the counter like he's erasing small tragedies one ring at a time
I keep drinking not because it helps but because stopping would mean sitting here with nothing between me and the truth
that she's gone and I am still here learning how heavy that is without her
