My love was side-splitting, because my heart ripped. It was life-changing, because I would never truly live again. It was world ending, because my world was ending. He was my world, and he had ended.

The cold bathroom tiles indented themselves into my the legs, but wherever i moved they just got colder. But I couldn’t bear their cold, because it reminded me of his cold. It reminded me of all those days in the bitter hospital waiting room. Reminded me of freezing armrests of the chair beside his bed. It reminded me of how his hand felt as I held it for the last time and kissed his forehead goodbye.

I had known this apocalypse was coming. I had known for the last ten months. But just because I braced myself for the impact of the asteroid doesn’t mean that I knew how to survive after it hit.

I was a porcelain doll. He had taken me out of my box and played with me, cared for me. But know that he was gone, I was cracking. My porcelain skin was shattered, my beautiful dress was tattered. Paint was peeling, and from my cracks flooded tears. Not puddles, but waves of tears. Each sob decimated my body like an earthquake. I was in a hospital, a place of healing. Yet I was utterly destroyed. Nothing, no care, no medicine, could save me. He was gone, and so was my light. Without a sun, a world does not exist. I no longer existed. I was a barren, cold corpse.