The nausea crept up her throat from the pit of her stomach; the realisation that yesterday was real. She replayed the events over and over again in her head, anguish and hurt dancing inside her.

"It's over." He had said, and walked out like the last 3 and a half years never existed.

Like she never mattered to him.

She had stood at the door, clutching the frame, thinking that he would turn back around. That he would flash her his dazzling smile, say that he was only joking, and evelope her in a crushing hug.

But this wasn't a fairy tale. Nothing ended the way you wanted it to. He walked out and never came back. He didn't so much as explain why he left.

And now she was left to clean up the peices. Sweeping away all the remnants of the man from her life. He had left so much of his stuff at her house. It was like he wanted her to think of him forever. Every thought was of the man who left her. Every whisper of the wind called his name.

When the shock wore off, when the self-worth questions disappeared, she would be left in agony.

"Clay. Clay. Clay." The broom repeated with each swipe on the ground.

Was that a peice of his hair there? A toenail clipping?

No. This was unhealthy. She needed to knock him out of her head.

But how would it ever be possible? How could this feeling be so blissful at one moment and then the next, so irrevocably painful?

And then a thought blossomed. She picked up a picture of the couple together. The girl’s head rested tiredly on the male’s shoulder. His arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

“Love is a chemical reaction,” she reminded herself, whispering to the antagonizing photo.

It isn’t real. It’s a bunch of measly chemicals reacting in your body.

“I don’t love him. I never loved him”

No matter how many times she repeated that single line in her head, she could and would never believe herself.

“I don’t need him.”

Fat, wells of tears built up behind her eyes.

Love was made up so people could feel like they accomplished something. So people could feel like they had a purpose in someone else’s life.

When in fact everything was a trick from the body.

Only a chemical reaction.

But chemical reactions can still leave you in withering agony.

They still leave you with permanent scars.