The dog tags still rested against her collarbone.
But Daniel’s letter now sat in a simple wooden frame beside the photograph from Table 4.
Live badly for a while if you need to. Then live well.
Emma touched the edge of the frame.
Behind her, Bear opened the front door again.
“Forgot my keys.”
She turned.
“Daniel was right about you.”
“That sounds defamatory.”
Emma smiled.
He found the keys beneath the couch cushion and left.
The apartment became quiet again.
For years, quiet had meant absence.
That night it meant peace.
Emma turned off the kitchen light, passed Daniel’s flag, and went to bed without leaving the television on for company.
The last thing she heard was not Vance’s laugh, not a plate breaking, not even the echo of fifty chairs scraping backward.
It was her own laughter from earlier, still warm in the rooms Daniel had once called home.
