There is where your cat was indifferent to how much cable I was watching. This is where I questioned my taste in succulents.
Suggestions for notes to leave behind in the place where you just house/pet/plant sat:
This is the desk where early morning productivity was achieved.
This is the mirror where productivity dropped off in the afternoon and I stared at my face while assuring myself that no one looks good in sunglasses.
This is where I flipped through a fashion magazine and saw how everyone looks good in sunglasses.
This is where I made myself feel better, judging you for having a fashion magazine subscription.
This is the counter with the single serve coffee machine where I most envied your life.
This is the dark, warm spot in the closet where I most envied your cat’s life.
This is the bowl that looks like it was your grandmother’s where I ate cashews and then rearranged the remaining cashews in to make it look like I hadn’t.
This is where I felt closest to you because I knew half the people in the photos on your fridge.
This is where I wondered why I wasn’t in a photo on your fridge.
There is where your cat was indifferent to how much cable I was watching.
This is where I questioned my taste in succulents.
This is the dresser where I compared the cuteness of your baby pictures to mine.
This is the closet where I tried on three of your dresses.
This is the part of the living room where the light hit in a way that reminded me of my first apartment.
This is the rug which I laid on while looking up my college roommate.
This is the quilt in the trunk at the foot of your bed where I wondered whether I’d ever be able to have a family of my own, since I didn’t have the kind of childhood where handmade quilts got passed down.
This is where I caught the last five minutes of a movie my sister and I used to watch when we were kids and thought about calling to tell her I missed her but then a new movie started.
This is where I spoke with a French accent to the delivery guy after not speaking all day.
This is where I traced guesses about your neighbor’s name on the shower tiles.
This is where I was tempted to read what appeared, judging by the hand-drawn hearts on the envelope and the wax seal, to be a love letter addressed to you, but resisted.
This is the old fashioned rotary dial phone on a hall table where a fight was picked with my boyfriend about why doesn’t he write me letters with seals and hearts.
This is where I stared into space after returning from the coffee place you recommended, where I ran into the last person I expected to see: the person I always want to see most.
Starlee Kine is a contributor to the public radio program This American Life. She does stories about the world's slowest car chase, misunderstood ghosts and presidential library reenactments. She also wrote a torch song with the help of Phil Collins and designed a heartbreak cutting board designed specifally to cut tear-inducing onions on for THE THING Quarterly, to which she is a contributor at large.