"Time to face the dawning gray of another lonely day

It's so hard living without you"

- Harry Nilsson

Three days.

Three days sealed inside the apartment. At least, she thought it had been. Everything had seemed to blend together, each hour indistinguishable from the last. Cheeks moistened with tears that never seemed to stop, Judy rolled over on the bed, face pressed against the pillow. It drove home the emptiness, the pain even, not to have the familiar sight of a russet-coloured fox snoring away beside her. The two had developed a standard routine: wake up, get ready, head to work together. It had become almost symbiotic, each thriving off of the other's company. Now, only scant traces of Nick's scent remained on the covers, the doe not being able to bring herself to wash them; tantalisingly near, yet so far out of reach. She couldn't summon the energy to do anything. After all, nothing seemed worth doing.

A rap on the door sent her bolt upright, ears now erect.

"Hello?" Came a feminine voice, faint yet distinct. "Anyone at home?" The bunny cringed.

Oh no.

She'd forgotten.

Hurriedly, she rushed to the door and threw it open. Standing their, a familiar figure. Faded orange fur. A full and friendly face, undimmed by age. She looked at Judy, half-surprised yet clearly relieved. "Hey darling, how are you?"

"Um, holding up thanks Vivienne." The doe replied. It was only then she became aware of how awful she must've looked. Proper grooming or hygiene had been out of the question, and the odour would surely have been detectable to a fox. If the vixen noticed anything, she didn't say.

"Okay, shall we...?" Vivienne prompted, gesturing to the sofa.

"Yes! Yes, let's...yeah." The doe replied awkwardly, doing her best to put on a brave face. Nick had always been the best at this, the doe thought. And his mother's no different. By contrast, she'd always worn her heart on her sleeve: still, she knew the old vixen would be going through the same thing.

The two mammals sat down, Vivienne slightly slower to ease herself down. "Sorry, I'm getting on a bit you know," she ventured, trying to break into the conversation as smoothly as possible. "So, how're you getting on without him eh?"

Judy drummed her paws on her thighs. "It's...difficult." She stated; Vivienne nodded her head sympathetically. "I mean, knowing he's just not around anymore. I just don't really know what to do." She stared down at the ground. "I guess I'm just glad you still feel like coming to visit."

"Oh Judy," the old vixen said, "I can honestly say you were the best thing to ever happen to my Nick. He was blessed to meet someone like you. You sorted him out, got his life back on track. If he were here, I'm sure he'd say the same thing." She raised an eyebrow. "Although perhaps not in so many words." The rabbit couldn't help but smile slightly at that. From what Judy could tell, the witty quip and glint in the eye seemed to be something of a Wilde family trait. "Well, he must be smiling on us from up there anyway." Vivienne said, a note of wry amusement in her voice.

"Yeah," the bunny nodded, "I guess he is."