Your death will arrive on an ordinary day, in the middle of plans you never finished, and this world will not pause

People will eat, traffic will flow, somewhere, someone will laugh, clocks of time will not stop for your absence

Soon, even your name will soften at the edges, and you’ll become a Polaroid tucked into an album, or a file on a thumb drive no one opens other than on your birthday., or Christmas, or Easter…..Maybe an anniversary as it coincides with another specific event
On one of those days, someone will pull you out,nhold your picture a little too long, let a single tear fall into their coffee or tea; then wipe their mouth, go back to work, and slide you back into the dark

After all that living…that’s how it ends.

The world keeps spinning, as if you were never here at all