Mary sat up in bed, staring into the dark room. She looked to her left, and felt the immediate numb feeling consume her.
He was supposed to be there. For the rest of their lives, he was supposed to be sleeping beside her. Listening to her when she woke him up in the middle of the night. Holding her when she couldn't speak.
He was supposed to be there.
Instead, he was gone. He was dead, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She swallowed as she reached out her hand and gently ran her fingers across his pillow.
After a month, the spot where his head once laid was nearly gone, painfully reminding his widow that he would never rest his head there again.
There wasn't a single thing that she was unable to connect to him.
A book in the library, a spot in the village, a certain breakfast item.
Everything drew her thoughts to Matthew.