'Sticky Fingertips' by Elpi Pamiadaki
The light shines through the windows. It makes his sticky fingertip stains stand out. Proof that he was once here; running around, being a happy toddler. The house now seems darker, quieter, haunted. The silence echoes through me. The devastating finale of the last two years wasn't unexpected, but how can one ever be prepared for a loss like this? I lift my mug, take a sip of cold coffee. I wipe a tear from my eye with the back of my hand, then grit my teeth and take the yellow cloth. A quick squirt and a single stroke is all it takes for the sticky fingers to disappear. Until Monday. When it's my turn to have him again.