The apartment is empty without her; it's been three days and he's barely moved himself off the couch, much less his own things back to their original places.
He likes the new places better, anyways, he reasons, and he takes another sip of Corona.
Which was her favorite.
Frowning, he sets it on the table and closes his eyes
and is swept back in time, to where everyone is happy, and he carries her into the apartment because she stepped on a piece of glass, and when he's finished bandaging it he asks her to dance and they do, Frank Sinatra playing softly when he asks her to move in—
and then it occurs to him that he'll probably never dance again.
A/N: This one's angsty, isn't it? This is post-Parents, so you have a concept of the time…yeah. Sorry I've been lax on updating. There will probably more today.