Weight
He is hard to ignore.
He might be utterly silent, emotionless, blank… but his presence fills whatever room he is in, folds around her, against her, like the pressure of a storm-cloud, even though he is nowhere near her.
Eyes like lead weights that pierce straight through and leave her heavy and sad when she knows he looks for someone else. Hunts for some sign of another in her posture, in the way she moves and the way she doesn't.
For so long she has hoped that maybe he will stop looking, that one day he will simply wake up and be… not in mourning any longer. That he will see her instead of the shadow of his dead wife.
It hasn't happened yet, but it might, she thinks. Maybe he looks through her less and at her more? Maybe she is imagining something that she wishes were true.
Maybe.