The light leaves differently on Sunday nights. Earlier and with less ceremony than it should.

I have been watching it drain from the living room for the past hour. The wool rug holds the last warmth where I was lying. Now I am on the hardwood, which tells the truth about temperature. Cold rises through the boards like a slow announcement.

Gus has been restless all day. Not his usual restless — the kind that means he wants something. A different restless. The kind that means he knows something I don't yet know. He keeps walking to the front door and standing there. Not asking to go out. Just standing.

The house feels like it's holding its breath. Mom and Dad have been quiet today. Present but distant. There when I look for them, but looking through me toward something else. Monday sits on the other side of tonight like a closed door.

I found the patch of sun this morning in the family room. By noon it was gone. By four the shadows had claimed the whole house. Now even the kitchen feels gray.

Sunday ends the same way every week but tonight it feels like something else is ending too. Something I can't name but can feel in my bones. In the way Gus won't settle. In the way the light left without saying goodbye.

#pawscarwilde

#sundayblues