The camera saw you pack it away.
The sketchbook felt the drawer close.
Neither one asked why.
Months pass. Maybe longer.
We tell ourselves we've been too busy.
That passions are indulgent when there's rent to pay and inboxes to clear.
So you leave them. For later. For when things settle.
Things don't settle.
The camera stays in the bag. The sketchbook stays in the drawer.
They're not tracking how long it's been.
They're not waiting for an apology.
The busy doesn't end.
They weren't tracking your absence.
Open the drawer.
