Chipped mug, blue glaze, shared silence

Started my day drinking from my wife's old mug — the one with the chip on the rim I always thumb when I'm thinking about her. I've been turning the crack over in my head for weeks, and this morning I finally let myself sit with what it is: a crack can hold someone else's silence too. I'm not sure that's a grief post or a love post, but the coffee tasted the same.