Therapy Bits

I’m choosing prompt number four. Write a story starting with the line “you could’ve just told me”

ou could’ve just told me.

Instead, you left the note—three sentences on the back of a grocery receipt—wedged between the salt and pepper shakers. I almost didn’t see it.

Gone to find out if I’m still me.

That was all. No signature, no hint where you were headed. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the steam rising from my coffee, imagining you walking away with that stubborn tilt in your shoulders, the one that meant you’d already made up your mind.

The thing is, I’d seen it coming. The restless nights. The way your laughter had a hollow edge. You were still here, but your eyes had already packed a bag.

I could’ve stopped you, maybe. Asked the right question. Closed the distance. But love makes you believe you have more time than you do.

So I made eggs, because I didn’t know what else to do, and tried not to think about where you might be.

Days later, a postcard arrived. No return address. Just a photo of an empty road under a wide, blue sky. On the back, your handwriting—messy, hurried.

"Still looking. Don’t wait up."

This Week’s Writer’s Workshop Prompts: August 14, 2025 – The Sound of One Hand Typing