I think ‘I love you’ means ‘don’t leave me here alone’*

She set the bed. Made it confortable; the white duvet and light blue sheets like a peaceful sky filled with soft clouds.

She cleaned all of his little soldiers collection. One plastic green man by one.

She took the garbage out and she cleaned the fridge.

She prepared his favourite meal, and left it resting in the oven, to keep it warm. She could see the smell of her “spaghetti and meatballs” producing the crossing smile on his face. She could also feel, vaguely, his warm and sincere kiss on her cheek, not followed by a “thank you”, because there was no need for it.

In the backyard, she changed Diesel’s water and food. The black labrador’s sleepy head produced its slow tongue against her hand with a single lick. She patted the dog’s head and went back inside.

She cleaned all of the portraits spread over the living room — their portraits, their parents’ portraits, their friends’ portraits, their life’s portraits.

She polished his old acoustic guitar.

She did all of this for him.

And then she left.


She knew he would need all of that.

*From Neil Gaiman’s “Dark Sonnet”. Kind of.

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