She looked in the mirror the other day, finally seeing a glimpse of herself that he saw. Her full lips, her eyes, she smiled to herself thinking bout the day he called her gorgeous. The moment was short lived but the memory will last. As she tried styling her hair before she headed out she remembered how he told her he liked it tied up loosely. Slowly and deliberately she carefully scooped up the length of her hair tying it the way he would've liked it, letting the loose ends frame her face. She never liked her hair that way, but catching her reflection she could not help but agree that there's a girlishness about her- one she usually keeps hidden- that comes through when her hair is done up like that. Examining herself one last time, she nodded and left the room.
Before leaving she saw the piece of work he'd left behind. He was good with his hands, an artist in his own right. His drawing was smudged now, the face he drew now just marks of fingerprints. She pressed her lips together remembering how that happened, an inebriated friend full of raw emotions had tried wiping the picture away with her bare hands saying he's gone now this has to go too. She stood there yelling in her head telling her to stop. She was clearing away traces of him ever being there. Looking at the picture now she wondered if it really was time to wipe it away. She'll ponder about it today, for now she really has to go. Her errands will not run themselves.
Tired and spent after a long day, she stepped into the bathroom for a shower. Her stubborn thoughts always drifting back to him no matter how hard she tried to distract herself. Slipping out of her clothes, she bit her lip thinking about the number of times they'd plan on doing this together but never getting down to it. Still gently biting her bottom lip, she smiled softly to herself embarrassed at the thought. They knew so much about each other, told each other things they'd tell no one else but there was still enough mystery and a sense of longing for each other that still made them shy when they got a little intimate.
All patted dry, changed and ready for bed she slipped between her sheets. Her head in the middle of her white pillow, an open eye wide awake just as she was. She could not shake her thoughts away from him. She missed him more as she sank further into her bed, remembering the way he'd gaze at her like she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen while he stroke the side of her face gently. His rough fingers feel soothing against her smooth face. She turned her head a little to the side hoping to still smell him but the scent she was hoping for is not there. Her ripped sheets from when he was around had been thrown out, his scent has faded, even the things he'd moved in her room have somehow found themselves a new corner to rest. It's like he really never was there but the memories, the pictures all etched in her mind clinging to it for dear life. All those proved otherwise. She sighed to herself before succumbing to sleep, her mind too tired from having memories of them running through it all day. Another day awaits.