Work Text
There is nothing, superficially, missing from the apartment. It's Arthur's apartment, full of Arthur's furniture and Arthur's clothes, Arthur's books on the shelves, his leftover takeout containers in the fridge, his shoes by the door. But there is so much that is no longer there. Things Arthur can’t even name. The intrusion was so subtle - it feels as if the absence should be too, but it’s not. The loss is like having a tooth pulled, one set deep into the jaw, leaving a great, empty socket, a crater of raw flesh waiting to be packed with sterile gauze.The only outward sign of what’s gone is written on the notepad, stuck to the fridge, beneath Arthur’s growing shopping list:
MilkCoffeeBread
It reads, and further down, in a different hand, but the same black pen:
Goodbye - E