Empty Space

Space

The humming of the car engine was dull in comparison to my dark thoughts on the drive home. Pixie held me like a stranger holds a person's purse while they use the restroom. With a foreign, almost forced approach.
"I'm saying I need space."
Space. I hated that word because it felt so...empty.
Before I knew it, I was already walking up the path to my front door. I couldn't even remember pulling my Audi into the driveway. My little dog, Yipper, was hopping at my feet as I entered.
I laid back in my recliner. The TV wouldn't turn on for whatever reason, so I pitched that idea and decided to attempt to sleep.

She told me to stop by.
When I walked in, she was standing in the middle of her kitchen. "Are you okay?" I'd asked.
She nodded. "I'm good, Jo. I'm just ready to talk."
  "Okay, we can talk."
"We've been together forever. Right?" Pixie frowned.
  I stayed silent. "Well, I think that things are getting a bit stuffy, y'know?"
"Stuffy?"
"Like hard to breathe..." she pulled me into an awkward hug. "I'm not saying I don't love you, Jonah. I do," and then she let go. "I'm saying I need space."
  After that, I just stared at her until her face was blurry.
   "So what do you want me to do, then?"
"Nothing, Jo. You can do your thing and I'll do mine." Pixie was walking back over to the fridge.
  "What made you decide this?" I questioned her.
"Well, my fr—"
I laughed emptily. "Oh I bet your friends had something to say."
  "My friends think it would be healthy to step away for a bit. And I agreed. Don't blame them for it."
I stood by the front door now. "Looks like I don't have a choice."

I heard whining.
I rounded the corner—
    Yipper was lying on the hallway floor, whining.
    Ans then I remembered. Yipper died years ago.
    "What the hell?" I leapt back, slamming into the wall.
   I was just tired. I was fine.
    "No you aren't," a voice said from the end of the hall.
    "Dad?" He was standing there in a wife beater.
    "You're crazy, Jonah." He told me.
    "No. Everything's fine."
    He laughed at me. "No. You're gonna lose everything."
"You...you're dead." I realized.
Moments after the words left my lips, he caught on fire. His skin was melting off of his face. It dripped off of the bones like a popsicle in the sun. He didn't even scream, he just stood there. Burning.
He died in a house fire.
His ashes blew away. "That's fucking it!" I yelled. "I gotta call Pixie."
  She answered quick.
"Should we pull the plug?" a male's voice spoke.
My heart pounded in my chest. "Who is this?" I managed to say.
"It's been four years. There's no waking up from this." The man told her.
What the hell?
She exhaled sadly. "Pull the plug."
"Pixie what the hell—"