WARNING: Major character death implied
Prompt at the end
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He's been gone for a year now. An entire year. She hasn't dared step foot in the house since the day he was taken. Couldn't do it.
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Twelve months of wallowing in her own pool of tears, grasping a shirt so full of those that have fallen and dried that she is sure she can feel the salty crystals in the fabric. She won't wash them away though. Won't wash him away. His scent still lingers. She can smell him everywhere.
She finds herself bathing with his soap, using his shampoo. Spritzing his cologne on his clothes – still hanging side by side with her own in the closet – and only on his side of the bedspread.
His desk is still the same as the day he left it. Laptop open, notebook out, pages with words scrawled plentiful, the indentation of the swirls and scribbles indicating his attempt to get the remaining ink out of the pen. The path of destruction in his haste to find a new one.
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She's better now. She can go back to where it began. She needs to move on.
Slowly, she opens the door. Breathes in the stale, yet oddly aromatic, air of their Hamptons home.
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It happened on their anniversary. They were here to celebrate. But then...
He just went out for the morning to meet his publishers for the final edit of his new book. It was nothing new, the same process done many times before. Only this time he didn't make it back.
When she got the call, there was no hesitation. She dropped everything and ran to be by his side.
They told her to say goodbye. That they had done all they could.
She sat by him, whispering her love in his ear. Pleading for him to stay, hoping he could hear her in his unconscious state. The sobs wracked her body violently when he took his final breath.
She didn't go back to the house. Went straight to New York. Tried to be strong for his mother and daughter.
Six months later, they moved out of the loft. But she couldn't leave. There was too much of him still present. She couldn't let him go.
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She crosses the threshold of the house, gently closing the large wooden door behind her. Taking a deep breath she pads down the hallway, silently gazing at the pictures on the walls. Of them, together. His mother and daughter. Their wedding day. All four of them.
Just before she gets to the kitchen, the scent of dried and decomposing flora fills her nose. She gasps as her eyes adjust to the hundreds of dead flower bouquets adorning the room. Spotting a note on the marble bench holding the largest of the arrangements, she cautiously advances, leaves and petals crunching under her shoes.
She hesitates only for a moment before opening the note and reading. Her knees buckle and she's on the floor. A new kind of sadness takes hold and the semblance of control she had dissipates.
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To my dear Kate,
Today is our 5th anniversary. Not that you need reminding.
I just want you to know how much I truly love you.
Yes, yes, I know. I say it all the time. But I still feel as though it's not enough.
How did I ever become worthy of someone as special as you?
I ask myself this question everyday. Every time I open my eyes in the morning and find you curled into my side, your peaceful face resting on my shoulder. A small smile on your sleeping mouth.
When I bring you your morning coffee, joking about how you "better memorize the taste" because soon, if everything goes to plan, you won't be allowed to have any for a few months
That adorable eye-roll every time I bring it up.
Kate, I can't wait to continue to spend the rest of my life with you.
You are the joy in my heart and the last person I want to see every time I close my eyes.
I know you're probably going to be angry with me later for buying so many flowers but I just can't help myself when it comes to you.
I'll see you for dinner later!
I love you. Always.
Rick
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PROMPT: Person A mourning Person B's death for an unbelievably long time. After feeling they can finally move on, Person A returns home to find hundreds of bouquets placed around their house, with a note that Person B wrote to them, proud that they had been planning this surprise for today since last year, and how excited they are for dinner later.
A/N: I'm sorry guys