It was dark. She was cold.

But then again she hasn’t been warm since he left.

She was numb. So unfeeling that even the idea of pain was a foreign concept.

She laughed bitterly as rain started to beat against the window pane she was leaning against.

How appropriate.

But she lifted herself up, stepped away from the chilled window.

Walked out of the room they used to share.

She ran her forefinger of their picture on the side table next to the front door.

I miss you. So much.

Her voice was a whisper, breaking.

Breaking like her heart had when his stopped.

And so she left the house they shared, the life they had, and the dreams she wanted.

But her hand rested gently on her stomach as she walked, the protruding roundness a reminder. A piece of him.

Even if the rest was gone.