vacation (9)

*thanks for giving my story a read

“If you ever need someone to talk to. Or terrible coffee.” She smiled. “Thanks.” They parted ways at the edge of the beach. Rachel walked barefoot back to her cottage, sand clinging to her heels.

She rinsed her feet in the outdoor spout, climbed the steps, and paused at the door. The sky behind her deepened into violet.

Inside, the death certificate still sat in the drawer, untouched since the day she’d folded it there—paper heavy with finality, waiting for her to decide whether to keep remembering, or finally let it rest.