Despite her best effort, Amy hadn’t been able to bring herself to attend the gathering after Danny’s service. in all honesty, she had barely been able to make it through the funeral itself. All too aware of the stairs as she had been, that followed her throughout the day, watching her like some side exhibit at a science fair, just waiting for her to implode.

She felt like it.

She couldn’t handle this.

Pulling her knees tighter to her chest, Amy attempted to huddle further into the warmth of her late husband‘s favorite jacket.

It smelled like him.

Amy remembered the day she got it for him; joking with him that if they had had ever need to inhabit the woods, they could live comfortably with how many pockets the jacket boasted, no suitcases needed.

That situation would never happen now: there was no need of so many pockets anymore.

She was alone now, except for the memories.

And with a keen of lament, Amy finally broke.