The rubble surrounding me after the earthquake made my knees shake underneath me as I scavenge for any memories. My hands, calloused and dirty, bled as I dug through splintery wood and shattered glass. My eyes were wide as I scrounge like a mad-man in the rubble, trying to find anything to remind me of her.

That’s when I found it.

A felt the familiar fabric. The feeling of velvet that I had ran my hands along so many times. The feeling of the velvet that I saw my beautiful wife wear on our first date. The feeling of the velvet that made me smile when I saw my wife’s joy from recieving the gift.

I shudder as I remember how helpless my neighbor sounded telling me how my wife passed, how she tried and tried to save her but it was of no use. My wife was a brilliant, gorgeous, stunning woman who was taken from me too soon, and feeling this fabric made me relive our best memories all over again.

I squeeze my eyes shut, as if I was praying it was the red, velvet dress I was thinking about, as I pull the fabric out of the rubble. I didn’t care if I sliced my hands open some more. I just wanted this dress back.

My eyes widen as half of the dress comes out, the other half somewhere else. My world, alongside this dress, became torn in half. I clutch the pieces tightly to my body, never wanting to let go.

I will never let go of the reminders of you, my dearest wife.