The screen before me radiated a gentle light, illuminating the corner of the bedroom with an almost intimate ambiance. My fingers moved across the keyboard with a determination to wrap everything up so my holiday could finally start, each keystroke punctuating the stillness like a distant echo.

Down the hallway a muffled sound of footsteps dawned. My heart jolted. The sound ceased as quickly as it had arrived, likely just the neighbors. Shaking off the momentary hope, I refocused my attention on the screen and continued to type, each tap of the keys prompted an identical question to my myself; how did I manage to fuck everything up?

Outside, a soft rain began to tap against the glass, blurring the world. The city’s hustle and bustle seemed worlds away, muted by the late hour and the gentle curtain of rain. I thought to hear the footsteps again, only to be drowned out by the sudden intrusion of my ringtone, shattering the silence with its abruptness. ’Claudia.’ I let out a resigned sigh and leaned back in my chair.

’Mrs. Porter-Kennard, I’m sorry to intrude your evening, but I just saw your mail..’ Claudia’s voice began on the other end. As she spoke, I absentmindedly rubbed my neck, my eyes tracing the ornate cornices against the high ceiling.

I sensed Bette before her heels passed the threshold of the bedroom. ’Are you still here?’ Claudia asked.

’Yes, yes go on.’ I answered, taking in Bette’s posture leaning against the doorframe, in jeans and a turtleneck as if she had just come home from a walk. She stood there, dark and tall, just watching me. I felt naked under her intense stare. Covering the speaker I mounted at her ’one second.’

Bette sauntered further into the room, her deliberate movements sending a shiver through me. With agonizing slowness, her fingers traced an invisible path along the plastered wall before moving to the dresser, where she picked up a book. ”Bearing the Unbearable” was its title – a self-help guide on grief that I hadn’t managed to progress beyond the first page. She skimmed its pages, the sound of her closing the book resonated in the room.