When the bomb went off at the cafe.

You had gotten there early.

Too early.

And I was on time

But too late to be with you.

When the bomb went off at the cafe.

I should have been early, too.

Instead of on time.

We’d be the perfect family of ashes.

Mother. Father. Our child to be.

I’ve lost everything since then.

Photos, little things, reminders.

It’s all gone.

I have nothing of you.

Not even memories. Or words.

Just the memories of memories.

Sand slipping through my fingers.

The tighter I hold it, the more it slips away.