This is the passing. Traffic stop at the end of the block, where the gutter flows back onto the asphalt, and every split in the road overflows.

Do you remember the day we left? It was the end of Summer. It always is.

We closed the door and felt the world shrink. I reached for your face and found nothing but the surface of a mirror.

It stopped raining weeks ago, but the gutters keep overflowing.