Elio

You and Elio go down to the basement, anticipating his next sweet surprise.

“All your things are here.” He points to the neatly sealed box with your things. “Check, is everything in place?”

You ask what's going on. He looks at you with slight surprise.

— The game is over. I thought that was obvious. — He takes his favorite cup from the shelf—the very one from which you drank coffee together every morning. — Remember your phrase, that it smells like “our morning”? — He unclenches his fingers. The porcelain shatters on the concrete. — There. It doesn’t smell anymore.

Steps over the shards, climbs the stairs, already looking at the phone.

—Leave the key in the lock. And... —slight pause — ...it doesn't matter anyway. Forget it.

The door closes. Jazz starts upstairs—the same one you heard on your first morning.