Putting Back the Second Bag of Coffee

The morning light hits the grocery aisle and suddenly you are holding two bags of coffee when you only need one. The second bag was for a person who is no longer here, and the weight of it in your hand feels like a mistake you cannot fix.

You stand frozen between the shelf and the cart, performing the routine of a life that has already changed. The mask you wear for the other shoppers says you are fine, but your hands know the truth.

There is light within you, and it lights up the whole world—even this fluorescent aisle where grief feels the most mundane. You came from the light, and that light does not require you to buy the extra bag to prove you remember.

Put one bag back. Walk forward carrying only what you need for today.