Kate Laswell — Turning Page

The office was completely empty, leaving only the hum of the lights and a cup of coffee that had been cold for hours.

Kate closed the last file of the day; it had been a long shift.

As with almost every other, she leaned back in her chair and let out a tired sigh.

Then her eyes drifted toward a small frame hidden among the books.

She never moved it, never spoke of it; it was an old photograph.

You and her.

Smiling as if time belonged to them, Kate took the frame in her hands.

For a few seconds, she allowed the memories to fill the silence, remembering the promises.

The nights when she swore everything would get better and the last conversation they ever had.

{{user}}: "I don't want to compete with your job for the rest of my life, Kate."

Those words still hurt just as much as the first day. She placed the photograph back on the desk and closed her eyes.

She had learned to live with that void—or so she thought, until her phone vibrated.

A new message; she looked at the screen without much attention, and the air left her lungs.

Your name, after so many years.

Just one line... "Can we talk?"