Her shoulder blades, sharp enough to split individual teardrops in half that descended her cheekbones. She missed the feeling of the bed caving in, taking the contour of his body. Their legs intertwined under the blackened sheets to remind each other they are not alone, but alone she is. Her lips, cracked from the lack of moisture that his had failed to provide. They long for the taste of his early black coffee that lingered in the corners of his mouth when she awoke after him. The bed would be flushed from his body temperature and she'd roll over to run her fingers across the wrinkles that he left pressed in the sheets, feeling the heat. He was supposed to return to her that morning. Two years after his accident, her memories still transpicuous enough to remember their last everything with impeccable detail. Her gaze dropped down to her slender fingers, left hand, the silver ring that bound their love with the words he asked her to never let escape her memory on their first encounter.
"I do."