My fingers reached the corner of the corridor leading to our bedroom and I saw my knuckles whiten as I gripped the solid wood.  There was a faint white band on the ring finger of my left hand, the emptiness echoed in my chest as I fought to catch my breath again.  I could still feel her kisses on my skin, the lush softness of her mouth against mine and her touch, like butterfly wings, beating velvet caresses on my body.  I remembered one of the first mornings we had ever spent together.  Bette was still asleep and I’d woken early, my flesh humming with the tantalizing promise of forever.  As we had lain there in bed, she had murmured something under her breath and rolled against me, one of her arms reaching out to encircle my waist under the covers.  She had pulled me against her, her legs bumping up against mine and her hips twisting to nestle into my own.  I remember the way she was, the way she looked, a dark mess of curls cascading down over her face.  All I could do was gaze at her; she was so utterly, heartbreakingly beautiful.  For three weeks after we moved in together, I had made myself wake up before her every morning just so I could drink her in as the sun peeked through the blinds in our room.

Closing my eyes, I breathed in; sharp, cold, real.  The air was stark.  I could no longer recall the meadow-fresh scent of her skin, or the lingering perfume that stayed with me even when she had gone.  Those memories…those moments; they were gone too.  Bette and her lies had taken them with her, abrupt and instantly sobering in the cold light of grey.  My jaw began to ache and I realized that I had been gritting my teeth, preparing myself to go back into our bedroom, into the place where, only moments before, we had been naked and afraid.  But together.

It wasn’t until I neared the bedroom door that I heard her voice.  Halting in my progress, I panicked silently for a minute, wondering whether to leave or alert her to my presence.  My hand was shaking and the skin on my fingers was indented with a hard line where I had clutched the wall just moments before.  Curling my hands into fists I squeezed hard, hoping to find the strength from somewhere – anywhere.  As fingernails bit cruelly into my palms, I rounded the edge of the doorway and stood half in and half out of the room, hearing her quiet tone.