Her hands trembled as she stared across the dark room, where she knew to be a photo of him on the shelf.
A cold breeze swept in through the open window.
Her phone buzzed. A cold beam of light, sending shadows dancing across her sickly pale skin and the red tinting her eyes and the tip of her nose. The light diminished as quickly as it had appeared.
Silence. Then the revving of a motor and flickering headlights against the windowpane. Flickering headlights that reflected off of the glass covering the photo in the frame.
Her breath hitched. The photo of him. Of them. With his arms around her waist and both their eyes glistening with pure bliss. The type of bliss she hadn't been able to find anymore since the phone call. The call that had made her pulse stop.
She remembered his voice as vividly as the first time they kissed. That voice, that had told her that he loved her so many times. That voice, that had comforted her whenever she was down. That voice had sounded so weak through the disturbance on the line, when he said that it was over.
She hardly noted the rain starting to pour.
Her knuckles started turning white as she gripped the sheet tighter. The sheet on which they had sat together. The sheet on which he had held her so close that she could feel his breath tickling her neck. The sheet on which she had cried for hours after he hung up the phone.
The wind grew louder. It howled and sent papers from her windowsill flying through the room.
"I'm sorry..." She struggled to even get the words out as her eyes started to burn. "I'm sorry, if I seemed too obsessed."
Another gust of wind sent the photo frame crashing to the floor from where it sat perched upon the shelf. And the glass shattered in sync with her heart as she stood up and stormed out of the dark room.