She’s in the room down the hall.

I just heard her close the door.

She used to close it quietly, but she doesn’t do that anymore.

She’s playing music now, while lying on our bed.

I dream a haunted dream of what we used to do there instead.

Oh God that song is playing. Always turned her on just right.

Is that perfume I smell? Is she going out tonight?

Her door is open in the morning. I see the empty bed.

The cat that used to sleep with us wants me to scratch her head.