The room was big, she knew that-but it looked even larger without furniture. When he left, he took even the lamps, and so there she sat, on the floor in the dark, wondering yet again, how this became her life. She tried to convince herself that she would be ok, but as each minute passed, her tears grew heavier as the realization sunk in.
He was gone.
Over the last few months she rationalized with herself, her brain reminding her heart of the damage he caused, coaxing it slowly to harden so that it would never have to feel this way again.
It wasn’t working. She looked around the room they called the “family” room, knowing that the only families to fill it would belong to the new owners.
Never would she watch as her children rounded the corner on Christmas morning, with their curiosity boiling over them like thick, frothy sweet cream. Never would she know the joy of welcoming them home from school with freshly baked cookies before shooing them outside to explore the vast yard or perhaps to ride bikes up and down the hill.
No, the only memories she would remember would be cold and lonely, and the only hope she had was shattered by the man who once helped write her dreams.
And now she sat in the dark, in the room they called the “family room”…alone.