cold coffee

My stomach dropped. It felt as if everything had left me, as if the air in my body had escaped and ran away and I couldn't quite catch it. My knees buckled below me. It hurt as they hit the hardwood floor of our kitchen.
Well it was ours. Now it is only mine.
Kelsey looked at me with sympathy as her eyes squinted. She closed them. Her already heavy flowing tears turned into sobs. Her mouth opened and small whimpers of pain escaped. She leaned on the kitchen island, where her and her brother shared many laughs.
I slammed my fists into the ground. The pain rippled up my arms as i continued hitting the ground in anger. As if I could help him. As if I could hit all the pain away and feel nothing. Feeling nothing would be better than what I am feeling right now.
I pulled myself off the ground by grabbing onto the chairs placed by our dinner table where we always ate. Just this morning we sat here arguing over the dog. He left his coffee on the table this morning and it was still sitting there almost 15 hours later. His coffee he bought on the way to work was cold. He got to work and was late to teach and he could not explain it to his boss without stumbling because of his dumb stutter. He left work at the same time he did today. He didn't send me a text message when he got home, because he never got home.
I walked out the door to the snowy night. It was cold and I walked out on our balcony, my hand gripping on the railing. The soil from the flower pots holding dead flowers, frozen from the harsh winter, that we just never bothered to take down hung above my head were shaking back and forth because of the wind. It snowed harder. The whole world was feeling his absence. I was having trouble catching my breath because I was sobbing so hard. I glared at the parking spot that would not hold a car. I quickly got cold, my hands and nose turning red.
But I could care less.
All I cared about was him.
He was unhappy.
His coffee was cold.