A/N: I do not know where this came from. I was just reading some fanfic and suddenly got hit with this. It's not as happy as most of my fics. I was listening to Morrissey so he always makes me a little melancholic. I don't know. I actually don't like this. I really don't. I'm a romantic, a real, head over hills, sing it to the world, romcom watching Geek, that really wants a happy ending for e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Even though I'm a cynical sarcastic realist, I'm still a romantic. I mean I listen to Frank Sinatra when I drive to work each morning.. But.. I don't know. It's late, I'm rambling and I feel so fucking depressed after this. Jeez. I need to write something else. So I will.
Just read and review if you have to but don't bother with flames, because really, no one can not like this as much as me right now!
Take Care
Death is nothing to us, since when we are, death has not come, and when death has come, we are not.- Epicurus -
He opened their front door. The key in the lock sounded different.
Stepping into the hall his eyes fell on her scarf, hung on banister where she'd left it earlier, forgotten as they'd rushed from their house to a scene.
He breathed deeply, taking in the smell of their home. It smelled different.
Walking down the hall he entered the kitchen, dropping his briefcase to the floor, the same place he'd put it for the last 3 years since they'd moved in.
He chucked an empty box on the worktop into the bin. The room looked different.
Sighing he slipped his shoes off, and wandered to the back door, opening it and stepping out. The warmth of the concrete under foot bringing a familiarity he needed so desperately. Their dog ran up to him.
He watched as the dog sat and stared up at him. The dog seemed different.
Smiling sadly, he patted the animals head before turning and walking back inside. His footsteps echoed in the hallway as he made his way upstairs, stepping into the bathroom to pee.
He stood at the sink and washed his hands with the expensive coconut hand wash she'd always insisted on buying. The bubbles were different.
Shaking his head he walked into the bedroom. He pulled at his clothes slinging them on the floor without care. Looking at the bed, his breath caught in his chest at the tangled mess of blankets, the reason why they had been running late. When they'd moved in they had splashed out on the most expensive mattress, purely for the comfort. Both had problems sleeping, it came with the job. And even though now they slept together they were having the best nights rests of their lives. They had still thought 'what the hell', and splashed out. Because why bother spending time awake talking to each other on a bed that was like concrete. At least this way when they made love it was like making love on a bed of air.
He sank onto the bed. The mattress felt different.
Staring at the ceiling a tear slipped from his eye, slowly making a track down his pale and drawn face.
She was gone. He was different.