Nameless, here, for evermore
There was nothing Edgar could do to bring her back, of course; he knew that much. There was nothing to do but to lie on the couch feeling sorry for himself, missing her, missing her terribly, contemplating the hole in his life that she had once filled. He hadn't left the couch since she'd walked out of his life.
No, that was a lie: he'd noticed a short while back that she'd left one of her shoes behind. Of course, everything in the house reminded him of her. But her shoes, those were truly personal. He'd left the couch once, and once only: to pick up the shoe and bring it back with him, cradling it like the precious talisman that it was. He had it still. The smell of expensive leather filled his nostrils, along with that subtle, indefinable, utterly unique scent that was her.
He sighed and turned to lie with his cheek pressed against the side of the shoe. If he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, he could almost imagine that she was there with him again, that everything would be as it was before....
There was a sharp rattle of a doorknob, then the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut again. Edgar jerked his head up, barely daring to hope. Could she have returned to him after all? Could it be?
Indeed. Seemingly oblivious to the depths of despair into which she had plunged him, she sailed right by him to the kitchen, her arms full of groceries. "Edgar!" she said as she put the bags down on the kitchen counter, "something something something? Something down something something something something give something something something!"
Edgar discarded the shoe -- it was but a poor replacement, anyway -- and leapt off the couch, all sense of despair forgotten. Wagging his tail joyfully, he danced into the kitchen, barking his welcome.
No, that was a lie: he'd noticed a short while back that she'd left one of her shoes behind. Of course, everything in the house reminded him of her. But her shoes, those were truly personal. He'd left the couch once, and once only: to pick up the shoe and bring it back with him, cradling it like the precious talisman that it was. He had it still. The smell of expensive leather filled his nostrils, along with that subtle, indefinable, utterly unique scent that was her.
He sighed and turned to lie with his cheek pressed against the side of the shoe. If he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, he could almost imagine that she was there with him again, that everything would be as it was before....
There was a sharp rattle of a doorknob, then the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut again. Edgar jerked his head up, barely daring to hope. Could she have returned to him after all? Could it be?
Indeed. Seemingly oblivious to the depths of despair into which she had plunged him, she sailed right by him to the kitchen, her arms full of groceries. "Edgar!" she said as she put the bags down on the kitchen counter, "something something something? Something down something something something something give something something something!"
Edgar discarded the shoe -- it was but a poor replacement, anyway -- and leapt off the couch, all sense of despair forgotten. Wagging his tail joyfully, he danced into the kitchen, barking his welcome.