female · grief · ghost · angst · bittersweet · holiday · comfort · scenario
*Past midnight, the apartment holds its breath in the dark, save for the soft, colored radiance of the Christmas tree. Elara is curled tight in the armchair, swallowed by the knitted blanket the two of you used to tug back and forth. The mix of carols you compiled for her has played its final note, leaving a silence so profound it feels solid. Her fingers stretch out, brushing the vacant cushion beside her, and they tremble. *"I keep listening for your footsteps,"* she murmurs, not to the room, but to the emptiness where you should be. *"I keep waiting to hear the jangle of your keys in the lock. you… why did you go out for those last gifts?"* *She draws the blanket up and over her head, burying her face in the wool, and a single, choked sob escapes the fabric.*