February 2024 Flash Lit 9 (first try) - Space

Space

 

I visited my mom

after my dad died.

The countertop in his bathroom

stretched empty,

clear of pill bottles

and shaving cream

and four identical bottles

of lotion.

Mom had taken a bunch

of his shirts

to the thrift shop,

leaving gaps along

the closet bar.

The hospital bed

was gone

and so was the low

hum of the oxygen.

But in the corner,

square and sharp,

the box of ashes

sat in my dad’s chair,

still in his space.