The coffee shop still serves vanilla lattes
I still sit by the window
The barista still writes names wrong
The chair across stays empty

Tuesday afternoons remain
precisely what they are
The clock moves exactly as it should
The seasons change on schedule

My phone shows no notifications
that need to be answered
My calendar keeps its neat rows
of ordinary appointments

The route home passes
the same street corners
where traffic lights change
their predictable colors

Sometimes I notice
how the sunset
doesn't remind me
of anything in particular

My friends don't ask
why I've been distant
My schedule hasn't changed
My routine stays unbroken

The world continues
its measured rotation
around a center
that never existed