No one seemed to understand her pain. Her colleagues told her it would get better. Her friends told her she would eventually move on, each day getting a little less hard.
These were not the words she needed to hear. She only wanted to be left alone. She wanted the sad looks to stop, the hushed tones to end. When she was surrounded by people, her body wanted to crawl away and find a dark room to hide in and be alone.
But when she was finally alone at home, the silence was deafening. Each picture on the wall, his favorite mug in the cupboard, the ratty and torn shirt on the floor of the closet, all screamed memories back at her.
She yearned for everything to stop. The memories. The helpful people only trying the best they could to help make the pain go away.
She closed the blinds and turned off all the lights. Her eyes closed over and finally the pain stopped.
May 15, 2019 - Vignette prompted from an excerpt from a book randomly picked from the shelves of the public library.
A Vignette to A Kill 