Wanted: Muse

She slowly stretched, languorously running her hand over the empty side of the bed. Rolling over, she buried her face in his pillow, breathing in his scent. Staring out of the window at the crescent moon, a half-smile on her face, she slowly traced circles on the patterned bedspread. It was red and black - his favourite colours. Clutching his pillow, she started to shiver as she was suddenly assaulted by tattered memories, that, in their vividness, seemed as fresh as the gutted twenty dollars Unagi she had purchased that morning.

One year. One whole year one month and twenty-seven days since his demise. Since then, it seemed as if a part of her had ceased to exist, only to be replaced. She was no longer outgoing and vivacious. She now had a routine to follow. It was almost as if all the effervescence had slowly fizzled out.

The day started and ended with him. Somewhere in between, she had lost the will to search for herself. Breakfast was always two eggs, sunny side up, just a tad bit runny, and two sliced of toast, exactly one and a quarter turns on the toaster - exactly how he liked it. Every night, she sprayed the sheets with his cologne - the one night she miscalculated and ended up with an empty bottle in her hands, she spent sobbing on the bathroom floor. She now has two bottles of Ralph Lauren Polo Black and Armani Code each in her closet. Just in case.

A sudden chill broke her out of her musings. She slowly got up, casting the pillow aside. It had started to rain. She walked towards the windows, intending to latch them and return to bed. As she paused to look outside, staring at the pristine rain-drops falling carelessly, enticed by gravity, she suddenly realized that she would never be able to truly shut out the cold. Suddenly feeling as if a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders, for the first time in a year, she smiled. She had never looked more at peace. Spreading her arms out and throwing her head back in exhilaration, she jumped.