Home Is Where the Bodies Are

by Jeneva Rose

Death reminds us that life isn’t infinite and that one day, our time will come too.

The hospice nurse said she’ll pass by the end of the day. It’s odd. Some people never see it coming, others have a countdown, and I don’t know which is worse.

He closes the door behind him, leaving me to fend off the monsters on my own. But they’re not under the bed anymore. They’re in me.

I open the Memories box and cough on a cloud of dust that swirls in the air. That’s how memories are—dormant dust waiting to be stirred up.

“I’m okay.” I’m not, but that’s just what you say.

Some things you have to wear, like guilt and grief and old jackets left behind by loved ones who’ve passed.