100 Word Challenge | Whenever I hear it, I think of you

“Taken too soon,” the family said as they boxed up her things, sterilizing my home of anything to remind me of her passing. Really, those things reminded me of her life.

The visits started one week after her funeral. The family resumed their lives. I tried, and failed, to start mine anew.

She comes at dusk, when the lines between day and night blur to forget time, allowing the past to visit the present. Her things packed away, she visits as music.

“I’m here,” she calls as our song on the radio.

“I miss you,” I say to the air.

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