The ticket stub for the 8:50 showing of The Grand Budapest Hotel floated onto the bathroom floor.

It lay buried in my winter coat pocket all summer; today it fell out.

A bittersweet reminder of the last date before you left without a word. I can’t bear throwing it away.

Kristin Ronzi is a freelance writer and editor living in Tokyo, Japan. Her work has been featured in EastLit, Paragraph Planet, Anak Sastra, and The Anthem.