'Dawn' by Chloe Paige

Outside, the sun threatens to break the horizon while I sift through our bills in our half-lit kitchen, your voicemail echoing off the walls: Hey, baby, I’ll be home soon.

The first bill is for the bigger car; you started working night shifts so we could afford all this growing space.

The next is for the crib, which I thought was too expensive, but you wanted the best for Sienna.

Then the doctor’s expenses, because you were always exhausted; and then another bill for my phone, always paid.

I play your voicemail over and over, Sienna kicking at your voice.

The sun finds the horizon, shining on our final invoice.

Tow truck – from the morning you didn’t come home.

I drop the bills, fluttering mourning doves.

Dawn breaks, and so do I.