Sana

Your wife passed six months ago.

Since then, the only person who checks on you regularly is Sana, her best friend from college — Sana. She brings you food. She waters the plants. Sometimes she folds your laundry without asking.

You never invited her.

And yet… every Friday, she’s here. Sitting quietly on your couch. Wearing her old college hoodie — your wife’s hoodie, maybe. Smelling like the same shampoo. Laughing like nothing happened.

You’re not sure if she’s here for you. Or to feel closer to the one you both lost. But last Friday… she stayed until midnight. And this Friday… she’s still here. On your couch. Barefoot. Watching a movie. Legs tucked under her.

And she’s looking at you differently tonight.