I just keep seeing that empty spot on the sofa where her art supplies used to be, and it’s just SO quiet now, like the whole building is holding its breath because her music isn't blaring anymore and honestly I’m just furious at myself for not appreciating the chaos more when it was here—furious that I ever complained about the mess, about the late nights, about ANYTHING—and now it’s just me and the hum of the refrigerator, and he’s asking for his coffee again even though he just had one and I just… I can’t.