It's been 1,096 days, 26,304 hours, 1,578,240 minutes, three years since you've seen your girlfriend. You look out the window, hoping to see her out in the Boston snow. Every night you sit by the window, hoping you'll see her face again, that smile that used to light up your entire world.
Work is boring without her, you don't find joy in the things you used to. Lately you've been quiet, your colleagues have pointed it out to you. You can't tell them the reason why, they'd laugh at you for feeling the way you do. It's been three years, they say, you should be over it.
The last words you said to her were angry, you hadn't meant them. She made you angry, upset, and she was gone. You regret those words more than anything in your entire life. Maybe if you hadn't have said them, she'd still be here with you.
A suspect in a case had killed her, the love of your life. You had your fears with this specific suspect, he told you he'd kill you both. You held her as she bled out, you watched her die, felt her body go limp in your arms. You cried for her, screamed in the middle of an empty parking lot in the dark of the night. You can still feel the thick air around you, taking your breath away as you watched her fall. You didn't breathe for a while and you weren't sure which of you was actually dying.
You lay in your bed, it's felt so empty since she left. The nights are cold, quiet, without her. You thought about getting a pet to keep you company, but eventually, you'd look down at it and remember why you got the pet in the first place.
You remember all the nights spent laying with her, talking about your life together. You think of the moments spent in this bed, naked or fully clothed. She always knew how to make you feel like the only woman in the entire world. Your most cherished memories took place in this bed, when you kissed her for the first time, the first time you made love, the first time you talked about the future. All of these memories couldn't be erased with the world's largest piece of rubber. You would hold onto those memories until the day you died, and even longer.
You remember her kisses. Kisses that left your forehead tingling for days. When you were laying down with her and she'd kiss your shoulder before falling asleep. Kisses you'd never kisses were always soft. Kissing her used to be your favorite thing, right next to hugging her. You never were one for hugs, but when she hugged you, you felt happy, at peace.
You swore you could feel her strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you slept. You'll never get those nights back, you'll be alone forever. Nobody could replace her. Nobody could make you feel the way you did when you were with her.
Just when you thought you had escaped the sad thoughts for the night, a rare occasion, you hear a knock at your door. You groan and sit up, assuming it's important. Nobody has visited since she died. Tossing on a robe, you walk out of your bedroom into the hallway before making your way to the door. When you near the door, you don't know who to expect. You look through the peephole and your face goes white, as if you've seen a ghost.
"Maura," You whisper as you open the door.