Alex Eames, in the dining room, with a candlestick

First anniversaries were often the most difficult. Alex remembered all of the advice she had received a year ago - that if she was going to make it, if her life was going to find a new balance, a new pattern, she would feel it after the first year. She tried her best to be honest with herself, and she knew that even after a year she still felt a bit uncertain. Most of the time her legs were still a bit wobbly at the mere thought of Joe. She was positive she would love him her entire life, but she knew with great pain that sometimes it was not simply about love.

She had set the table in the dining room. She used the china they had received as wedding presents. She ran her finger along the edge of a dinner plate, admiring the wide platinum band against the bone white plate. She had fallen in love with the pattern the first time she had laid eyes on it, and with the passage of time she loved it all the more. Gently she placed a large crystal candlestick in the center of the oval table, and wedged a fresh white candle into place. She slid the candlestick to rest against a bowl of fresh flowers she had arranged earlier in the day.

She returned to the kitchen to place the finishing touches on the dinner she was preparing. Pasta Carbonara was one of Joe's favorite meals. She had even taken the time to purchase and shell fresh peas. The pasta was just about done cooking; she had already grated a mound of fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano. She was just about ready to assemble the dish, so she returned to the dining room to light the candlestick. She stood for a moment, admiring the small dining room, the polished wooden surface of the table, the deep lichen color on the walls. She cherished the warmth of this room, the love she had put into this room. When they had moved in, she remembered thinking that she would share so many special occasions in this room with her new husband.

Even though he wasn't there, she had thought to celebrate their life, to celebrate his life. She realized she couldn't, not without him. She had no appetite; she hadn't felt like eating anything in a very long time. So, she sat down alone, in front of the single place she had set. First anniversaries were definitely the most difficult. She still felt like someone had ripped her heart out of her chest. Softly, she placed her head in her hands and allowed herself to cry. A year had passed since Joe had died.


A/N: So, I'm posting this without the lovely work of beta-mabsy. So, all faults above are my own. Thank you to FeistyGeist for the inspiration. My writing muse must be sad today.