Need coffee

I let out a silent scream, my face buried in my bed. My lungs were burning. My face and neck were soaked from my own tears. I coughed and sobbed, choked and pulled my hair.

This couldn't be real.

It's not real.

He's not gone.

I sobbed until I exhausted myself.

I woke to the sun coming through my curtains. I blinked my swollen eyes open, my face dry from the tears. I had a moment of peace, the morning sun shining on my face, before I remembered the reality I now inhabited. My heart sunk, but it seemed I had outcried myself. I closed my eyes, preparing myself for the day ahead.


I needed more coffee.

Three days since James died, and I needed more coffee.

Well, before I realized I needed more coffee, I needed to figure out how to use the machine.

James always made my coffee for me in the morning.

So, I went out, not even caring what I looked like. I got the coffee I was pretty sure worked in the machine we had, and drove straight home.

When I entered the silent house, a box of coffee pods in my hand, it suddenly felt like my heart was being crushed by my own fist.

I had immediately looked for James.

I collapsed onto the floor, howling.

How could I live without him?

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