I sat down on my bed and picked up the picture frame sitting on my bedside table. I was suddenly lost in the thought of warbler duets, coffee dates, bow ties, vibrant brown eyes, hair gel, and everything from the past. I took a deep unsteady breath in to keep from crying.
"What have I done?" I whispered my voice breaking from tears. My head had an almost unbearable pain caused by another one of my many reoccurring headaches. How long has it been?
I got up placing the picture frame back on the table and walking into my closet. I kept a shrine there. Pictures, songbooks, small clothing accessories, cologne, Vogue magazines, coffee cups and a calender. I took my red sharpie and x-ed out another day on the calender. I flipped to the where the red x's began and counted to the latest one. One hundred days exactly. One hundred days of tears, loneliness, emptiness, pain, heartache and longing. I grabbed one of the mementos I had in the memorial of my lost love. A pillow. His scent still lingered from it. I hugged it tight and cried into it just like I would cry into his shoulder.
One hundred days is just to long. I have waited and waited for it to get better like everyone says but one hundred days later it still hasn't gotten any better. How long does everyone expect me to wait? A year? Five years? A lifetime? Well no. I can't wait that long. I grabbed something off of the tiny bedside table I kept in the closet to hold everything on. It was cold and hard just as I remembered it feeling the day I put it there. I always kept it there just in case of emerengecy but I never needed it. Until now. I held it in my hand and got a good grip on it. I aimed it where I knew I wouldn't somehow miss. This was my only shot. I sighed and pulled the trigger.
