We should have known. All the signs were there. The slow drift of feathers across the yard. The crow in the leafless tree, feasting upon the body of a songbird. The relentless cold, even as the calendar advanced to days when the soft edge of spring should have cut into winter.
We ignored the dire portents.
Then a phone call.
Now it seems so odd to take out the garbage, bring in the mail, walk the dog, all while knowing you are not here.
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