Barely at the cusp of consciousness, I don't think. I feel. Sorrow. Heartache. Loss.
The feeling is heavy and weighs me down. My mind struggles through it to awareness, and I remember.
Him.
He's gone.
I soon become aware of my body. My arms wrap around the blankets, hugging them tightly against me. Almost desperately, not wanting to let go. I let myself pretend for a moment. Nuzzling them closely, I catch the faint scent of him. I await tears, but none come. Odd. They flowed endlessly last night before sleep mercifully took over. Now, they have abandoned me, and all I am left with is this heaviness. The loss.
I can lie here, wallow in his lingering scent and immerse my self in memories. So tempting. So easy. Before I let the flood of memories crash over me, my mind tries desperately to save me.
I must get up it urges me. Surely, someone must need me. Someone depending on me for something.
It sounds logical to me, though I can't think of anyone.
Not anymore.
I open one eye. It's harder then it should be. Were my eyelids always this heavy? Taking in the light, I realize it must be late morning. Good, this day is half over. I mindlessly sit up, as a puppet whose strings are pulled, and leave the sanctuary of my bed. I go through the morning ritual motions and try not to notice the quiet all around me.
"It's just me. I'm alone." Whispers come from the back of my mind, and I hush them.
"Not yet. I'm not ready for the truth." I answer.