They say there are seven stages of grief
Shock
Denial
Bargaining
Guilt
Anger
Depression
Acceptance
I never experienced any of them.
I don't think I ever will.
The door to the apartment we shared opened and I slipped my winter boots off, dropping them on the hardwood floor.
I wasn't hungry.
I wasn't sad.
I just wasn't.
I dropped the keys in the little ceramic plate on the entrance hall table. The plate she bought.
It disgusted me.
The thought of what happened disgusted me. That was all I felt:
Disgust.
My feet dragged me to the living room. The TV was still on, like I left it in the morning.
Brooklyn 99was on.
Lyddie use to love it. She' d watch it religiously whenever she came home. I always hated the humor.
" Childish " was the exact word I used whenever she asked me to watch with her.
Then it came back: the disgust.
I grabbed for the remote on the modern coffee table and switched the channel as fast as I could.
The news channel.
I never watched it, Whenever Adrie came over I was forced to watch it with her.
But never on my own.
Still I watched it.
My body was spread out over the couch. The throw pillows were piled on the floor.
They were her's too.
She insisted upon them.
We went into the home decor store and she spent her sweet old time in the pillows section.
Needless to say we came home with 16 pillows.
I shifted my attention back to the TV. The weather lady showed the rain forecast and temperature.
I must've zoned out. The people switched and the other person started talking about the general news.
" There have been many car crashes is the past week... experts have shown that the accidents have risen with 13%.... Two girls were on their way...." The newsman said showing a picture of Lyd'd sage car.
I grabbed the remote and switched the channel again.
I wasn't in the right space to hear about the accident.
I would do anything to let people stop talking about it. I wish people would just forget about it.. about me.
Cartoon Network, adventure time.
My eyes blankly stared at the television screen, I wasn't processing any of it. And soon my eyes started to droop.
I swayed in and out of sleep for some time.
A clattering from the kitchen woke me up. I stiffened, my mind only registering what was about to happen later.
So this is how it ends. Death by burglar.
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RandomShe died. For a long time I wished that I'd died with her. But life's not fair is it. It never has been, never will be. People die. Thats what happens. Cover picture is not mine. The story is.
