Lively was one way he could describe the days. Laughter was a constant in his life. Affectionate gestures, playful teasing. Nights spent cuddling in bed, the soothing sound of small talk and detached voices lulling the both of them to sleep. The simple joy that being around her gave him was more than enough of a reason for him to keep going.
The sizzling of food snapped him out of his reminiscent trance, into reality. He quickly turned off the stove, opening one of the cupboards to the top right of him. Grabbing two plates, he set the table and brang the food over. Placing a hand on the back of the chair, about to pull it out and sit down, he hesitated. Something was wrong. There was something he was missing.
His eyes wandered around the room. What was it? Eventually, they trailed over to the second plate he had set out. Gingerly, he made a move to take it and put it back into the cupboard, but found himself unable to move. It was like his body was working against him, his mind screaming, refusing to believe that the second plate wasn't needed. That any moment now, the lock would slide out of place and she would come strolling in, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek and sit down for dinner.
But she wasn't coming back. And as much as he didn't, refused to believe it, that was the reality of his life. He put the plate back, and sat down. Head tilted back, eyes pinned to the ceiling and brimming with tears, he couldn't bring himself to start eating.
She wasn't coming back.
She was gone.
Six feet under.
D e a d .
And as he fought back the tears, he couldn't help but wonder,
Those lively, cheerful says filled with meaningless chatter and laughter,
Where had they all gone?
When had it all gone silent?