That morning had been a blur. He barely remembered getting on the train. The whole week, in fact, had felt like a fever or one of those summer colds. But here he was, climbing out of a dirty subway tunnel surrounded by steel and fluorescent lights. He could still smell her perfume on his lapel from when she had buried her head in his chest and cried.
That was eight days ago. There had been a lunar eclipse since then. He loved how entranced she was by the moon. He felt her absence the most at night and also during the days. He felt her absence in everything but mostly in the hollowed out parts that now existed in his chest. He realized they’d never gotten to use the camping equipment he bought her last Christmas or seen all the old movies on their cinefile list. Did she know she was the most important thing in his life? Had he ever said thank you? There were so many things he had wanted to say to her, so many things they were supposed to do. But that night, all he could do was watch her cry.
And now it was Thursday. He stepped off the escalator onto the sidewalk and crossed the street towards his office building. Everyone was rushing to work, starting their days, living their lives. He pulled his coat up to his face to have her next to him one last time. Chocolate and firewood.
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