A simple line drawing on white, of a empty wall upon which 12 t-shirts are hung, in orange, green, gray, and white. On the far left, a figure stands on a stepladder and extends their arms up into the left-most pink t-shirt.

What is Left Behind

My beloved left this earth and left behind his belongings–his residue.

Bending the meaning of words, his shirt becomes skin. This shared third skin moves between us, allowing me to feel his presence. I allow myself to explore the possibilities of this interaction through this third, shared surface.

What has been left behind by those I love? Do these items bring me comfort? Cause anxiety? Do they still retain the smell of my loved one? Their imprint?

Prompt by: Hannah Spector