The old pair of boots sit neatly next to the back door. They don't move, still a bit of mud caked on the bottom and side from the one last hike they took. Strings stilled tied from a lazy owner who just simply fights to peal them off instead.
A lone coffee mug, covered in reindeer, is placed on the table every morning out of habit. It never gets filled with its usual strong black early morning coffee, but just sits there, cold and empty.
Newspapers are stacked next to the lone mug. Apart of the usual morning routine that still hasn't changed. Some have made it to the floor to make room at the table.
There is a jacket, well worn and wrinkled, that sits on the arm of the couch. It doesn't move, it doesn't make it to the laundry. It stays on that arm, never touched till it's owner returns.
A musky smell of pine, Old Spice and a hint of sweat cover the blankets, pillows and sheets. The pillow is hugged most nights, tightly wrapped in small arms, head buried in the pillow with their body wrapped tightly in the sheets. The house is purposely made cooler so the blanket can be used more frequently.
The mind is an evil thing, letting people imagine things that aren't there.
Anna swears she has heard his laugh, his soft snoring in the mornings as she wakes. Her dreams playing her into believing he is lying next to her, only for her to roll over into cold, empty sheets. She can count the number of dreams she has had of him, spending the day together, snuggling on the couch together, sitting outside on the porch together. All cruel tricks of her mind to remind her he isn't there.
Though she has been told she is so full of life, the house just seems so empty, so lifeless.
It's not home.
More often than not, she sits on the couch, glancing to the windows, waiting to spot that old truck driving up. A smirking blonde in the driver seat, large arms wrapping around her as she runs to greet him, laughing and kissing head as he tells her how much he has missed her.
She knew Kristoff joining the army was going to be hard; but she was strong, so was he, and she knew if anyone could get through it they could.
There was still days though where she just felt so hollow.
Every day she remind herself to stay strong for him, stay strong for herself. They would get through this, he would come home and it would be like he never left.
But for now, she is haunted by him as she sits, his too big flannel shirt hanging off of her, the blanket wrapped around her, as she sits staring out the window.
Waiting for her soldier to come home.