She takes a sip from her coffee, her sight cloudy from fatigue. It had been a year today, since the accident. Or was it today? What did it matter, what was time now, without-- She sips her coffee again.
Silence. One year of terrible silence. No more stories, no more laughter. No more of that goofy grin he had when-- Another sip of coffee. It is cold; she had waited too long. Foolish. She had built her life around him, begun to find answers with him. So much for being a strong and independent woman. She had felt so idiotic for that, but she was far too happy for once to care and now--
The cup is empty. She puts it down. Simple, white, unadorned, but it is a good mug. He had helped her pick up the pieces of that silly souvenir cup. It was charmingly tacky, and it carried memories, before it had shattered on the floor. But in a few moments he had her laughing and smiling again. He always could.
The cup. She should clean it before she forgets.
The water is cold, running over her hands; her fingers catch and slide over the soapy mug. The water. So cold. He had dropped an ice cube down her back once. How cold it was! And she had screamed in shock, and he squeezed her to himself, the ice between them. She squirmed in his arms and struggled; she squealed, and he laughed, and they were laughing together. The ice water was running cold down her back, but then, she didn't care anymore. They both fell silent. The squeeze became a loose hold, the ice fell, and she turned to face him, his playful eyes so clear. He smiled gently, softly ran his fingers through her hair and around her ear, gently touched behind her jaw-- The water was still running. Careless. She hurriedly shuts it off. She dries off the cup, feels its hard smoothness in her hand, and reaches for the cabinet door.
God, the silence. It was unbearable. Where was his voice, his smile? Where was he to sneak up behind to surprise her? There was nothing to fill this terrible void, all this time later. She had wondered why he hadn't answered that day. It was just a normal day, and sometimes it would take him a while to respond, so maybe it was just taking him longer. She had always tried to make sure that she never left anything unsaid. He knew how much he had meant to her. She had always believed it would help if someday something should--
She shakes her head and closes the cabinet, doesn't want to remember that day. She walks over to the window and stares at the wall, and the shadows slowly drift and deepen, and the memories begin their onslaught. Time has passed, that day ended, but not for her. All she had wanted was another day, every tomorrow to be filled with his smile, but then that day.. and tomorrow never came.
On that normal day she had gotten the call she was waiting for. But it wasn't him. It never would be. Never again. The call that told her there would be no more surprises, no more of his smile, no more of his stupid jokes.
And the silence rings in her ears.
