Where The Autumn Wind Blows

The conversation peters out after that, the tension still lingering but softened by Jack’s words. We eat the last bites of our meal in relative quiet, the clatter of forks on plates filling the gaps between unspoken thoughts.“Alright,” Mom says finally, setting her napkin down. “Let’s get this cleared.”I push back my chair and stand, grabbing the plates. Josh follows suit, though he’s slower, lingering at the table a moment longer before helping. Even in the mundane act of clearing the dishes, the weight of the day seems to press on us both, though differently—me with longing and guilt, him with that quiet protectiveness he can’t quite shake.I rinse the salad bowl at the sink while Josh stacks plates and cups by the dishwasher. Mom dries and puts away silverware, while Jack wipes down the table. The routine is comforting, grounding, even if my mind is elsewhere, still hovering over Gavin’s message glowing on my phone in my pocket.“You’ve both been quiet lately,” Mom says gently, l