1

30 2 0
                                    

July 1,2023

Dear Caitlin,

It's been a week since the accident, and I still can't believe you're gone. Every morning, I wake up hoping this has all been a terrible dream, but then reality crashes down on me. The house feels so empty without your laughter, without the sound of your voice singing in the shower. Today, I went to our favorite coffee shop. I ordered your usual: a caramel macchiato with extra foam. Mr Green asked where you were, and I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth. Instead, I just smiled weakly and said you were out of town.

I sat there for hours, Caitlin, just staring at the door, half-expecting you to walk in and join me. Do you remember how we used to sit there, talking about everything and nothing, planning our future? I found our table in the corner, the one we always preferred because it had the best view of the street. I watched people come and go, and it struck me how the world just keeps moving on while mine has come to a standstill.

I tried to keep myself busy today, but everything reminded me of you. Our bed feels so large and cold without you next to me. I keep waking up in the middle of the night, reaching out for you, only to be reminded that you're not there. I don't know how to cope with this pain, but writing to you feels like a way to keep you close. It's as if, through these words, I can still talk to you, still feel your presence. I love you, Cait. I always will.

Yours forever,

Davin

Echoes of YouWhere stories live. Discover now