You know how sometimes you see something, and it just… sticks with you? Like you can’t quite shake it, even though it’s not really *your* problem, or anything. You just observe it, I guess, and then you kind of keep going over it in your head. It’s like a little, I don’t know, case study in human behavior or something. That’s sort of what I’m feeling right now, about my grandpa. He lives in a house that’s, well, it’s like a lot of houses in our neighborhood, maybe a little older, but definitely well-kept. You know, lawn mowed, clean gutters, the whole suburban thing. But inside, it’s… different. It’s about his side of the bed, actually. Or, really, my grandma’s side. She passed away, like, three years ago, kind of quietly. Not a big drama, just… went to sleep and didn’t wake up. And you’d think, after a while, things would change, right? But no. He still keeps her side of the bed completely untouched. Like, the pillow is still there, exactly how she left it, I guess. And the duvet is still pulled back on that side, like she’s just going to get in. But the thing that really gets me, that I can’t quite wrap my head around, is that he still lays out her slippers every single night. Like, right there on the floor, next to the bed. Her little fluffy pink ones. Every. Single. Night. For three years. It’s not like he talks about it. He just… does it. And you sort of see it, when you’re there, and it’s this really specific, almost ritualistic thing. And you wonder, like, does he forget? Or does he just sort of go through the motions without really thinking about it? Or is it something else entirely? It’s this quiet, almost, like, performance of expectation. Like, maybe he expects her to just… come back. Or maybe it’s just the habit, you know? Like, some deeply ingrained pattern that he can’t break, even if he wanted to. It’s kind of a lot, to see that, and just… not really have a category for it. It’s just this thing that *is*. And I guess I’m just… typing it out because it’s a lot to hold onto sometimes.