She could hardly pin-point how they got to where they were. There were no angry words, and there were no moments of uncomfortable or awkward silences. There were no mysterious late nights, and there was no tell-tale lipstick on his collar or hidden love letters in his pockets. Yet, there they were, carrying boxes down the hall and out to his truck, while carefully loading them one by one. There was nothing much to say about anything. There was nothing at all to understand where it all went wrong and how it all began. Like old friends, they said a final goodbye to each other, and as he drove away, she loitered for just a moment longer as she watched his tail lights disappear into the night.
She reluctantly walked back inside, and rushed into their bedroom. She stared at the big, lonely bed and she gazed into his now empty closet. She took his pillow and held it against her. She stood still, as she smelled him into her soul, afraid that not too far from that very moment, she might forget the odor of his skin. She placed his pillow back on their bed, before she walked out and laid down on her couch instead. As she had done on so many nights before, she prayed for him and she prayed for her. She prayed for their “them.” She was not quite sure how her life would go on without him, and she feared her meetings with her mornings. She couldn’t even be sure that she’d survive the stormy, untaught nights without him. She laid quietly as she listened to the cars that continued to mow down the streets. She hears the friendly, habitual chatter of her neighbors. In the distance, children are squealing and dogs are barking, just as they always do. “It was true,” she whispered through the tears that had begun to roll carelessly from her eyes, “The world did not stop for my broken heart.”
She glanced over at the clock against the wall, and was disappointed that it had continued to tick. She could not quite figure out how it had not lost even a second, and how perfectly set it had remained. If it had told her that it was ten minutes earlier, or five minutes later, she would know that the grand-master of time had felt it too, and that it had been affected by her broken heart just as much. She felt betrayed by her clock, and she felt annoyance for the world who was supposed to become immobile for just for a moment, and commiserate with her broken heart. She listened to a song that was softly playing on a radio in the background. She wondered how it couldn’t sense her immense soreness. She wanted to take it into her hands and hurl it against the wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces. How dare it continue playing sweet love songs, and mislead one more heart as it makes empty promises of love. As she tried to put her scattered thoughts in place, she cried herself to sleep.
She awoke before dawn with red and distended eyes. She was sure that she was hung-over from the effects of her broken heart. With all the strength she could gather, she turned off the radio and stumbled over to her coffee pot. She poured herself a quick cup, and as she stood staring blankly out in front of her, she realized once more, that a cup of coffee alone, was one of the many firsts she would have to face in her world, without him. She thought about how much smaller her laundry basket would be, and how dinner for one would be nothing more than a frozen meal, without him.
For, her broken heart had turned into just another number, in a world polluted with lost loves. For her broken heart, the world did not stop, and the universe refused to apologize. For her broken heart, people will not speak kinder words or tread gentler around her. For her broken heart, the trees will not keep their leaves in autumn, and the flowers will not continue to blossom in winter. For her broken heart, the earth would not move slightly off his axis, and the stars would not conjure up a new plan for her life, and bring her lost love back to her. Just for the survival of her broken heart, he won’t be coming home, and he won’t be putting all her crushed pieces back together.