You didn't fill the bins yet

You glance toward the side of the house where a couple of flattened cardboard pieces are still leaning against the wall.

“Yeah… I didn’t actually get around to filling them yet,” you say. “Most of the packing stuff is still inside or already broken down. I was thinking I might just wait until next week once I’ve properly filled them.”

Ellie nods, still standing on her porch with the phone loose in one hand. The oversized t-shirt shifts when she moves, the heavy shape of her breasts settling against the soft fabric. She doesn’t seem in a hurry to go back inside.

There’s a short pause. She looks at your front door, then at you again.

“I could… come over and help with the rest of the boxes tonight, if you want,” she says. The words come out careful, almost like she’s testing them. “I’ve got nothing on. And it’s easier with two people. We could get the last of it sorted and actually fill the bins properly.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks still faintly pink from earlier. The offer hangs in the warm afternoon air between the two porches — practical on the surface, but carrying the quiet weight of her stepping into your empty house after everything that’s already happened today.

She waits for your answer.