Five days. Five days of feeling her presence across the hall. Five nights of laying alone in the living room and feeling her stress as she relived her memories as she slept. Five mornings of staring at the empty place across the table. She hardly ever got out of bed. I could hear her soft steps every now and then when she went to her bathroom, but she never came out of the bedroom. Her meals were half eaten as I examined the plates I retrieved from outside her door.
It was on the sixth day that I heard the shower turn on. Then I could hear as she rummaged through her dresser and the sound of her shoes as they hit the floor. The noise caught me by surprise as I listened closely from the living room. My excitement grew when I heard her door creak open softly.
I waited on the couch for he
