The Weight of Empty Palms

Marcus runs at 5 AM every morning, his trainers pounding against the pavement in a rhythm that matches the hollow thudding of his heart. It's been three months since Elena's funeral, and the motion is the only thing that silences the questions his mind keeps asking. Why didn't he notice the symptoms earlier? How could a person just... evaporate from your life like morning fog?

The neighborhood is still sleeping, but Buster — the elderly golden retriever from next door — is always waiting. The dog has appointed himself Marcus's unofficial running companion, trotting alongside with stiff joints and a tail that never stops wagging, as if Marcus himself is worth greeting every single morning.

"You're too old for this, buddy," Marcus whispers, pausing to catch his breath. Buster looks up with milky eyes and a grin that says, *And yet here we are.*

Today, Marcus's hand instinctively goes to his pocket, fingers closing around nothing. He still reaches for his phone to share the sunrise with Elena, still expects to hear her voice. His palm presses against his chest, feeling the steady thump-thump-thump that means he's still here, still breathing, still running toward a horizon that keeps moving farther away.

A woman jogs past them, her face flushed with exertion, alive in that careless way people are when they don't know yet how fragile everything is. Buster gives a little bark and bounds after her, then circles back, embarrassed, as if he's betrayed some secret loyalty.

Marcus laughs — really laughs, for the first time in weeks. The sound surprises him, raw and rusty.

He sinks to the curb and buries his face in Buster's warm fur. The dog smells like old carpet and unconditional love. Elena used to say dogs were better than antidepressants.

"Okay," Marcus says to the empty street. "Okay."

He stands up, knees creaking, and begins the slow jog home. Buster keeps pace, shoulders brushing Marcus's leg with each step. For the first time, the future doesn't feel like a void. It feels like this: one foot in front of the other, a loyal companion at his side, the pink light of dawn spreading across his palm like a promise he's finally ready to believe.