(no subject)
There were days when Catherine forgot. Still half asleep, she’d reach to the other side of the bed, expecting her arm to rest comfortably on a warm, soft body only to have it fall flat on a chilled sheet. She’d open her eyes and stare at the emptiness, her fingers curling in the sheet just to give her something to hold on to. If she scoot closer, she could catch the faintest scent of her shampoo on the pillow. It still had a slight indentation from where her head had lain. If she shut her eyes tight enough, she could pretend that soon she’d have to rouse the brunette from a deep slumber, would hear her voice, huskier with sleep, begging her for five more minutes. For all her talk and all her drive, it was surprisingly hard to get her out of bed and ready for work on time. Despite the claim that she could be sleepless for days without consequences, Catherine had seen plenty of evidence to the contrary. She was groggy, grouchy and could barely string a sentence together but Catherine loved her no matter how many times the moodiness caused a tiff between the two of them. They always made up in the end and that was really what mattered most.
But there would be no more warmth, no more dragging her out of bed, no more fights, no more making up because there was no more Sara.
There were days when Catherine forgot about the car wreck, the drunk driver, the endless nights that had been lacking in sleep but full of tears. It was those days when she realized it wasn’t the remembering that hurt the most, it was the forgetting.
But there would be no more warmth, no more dragging her out of bed, no more fights, no more making up because there was no more Sara.
There were days when Catherine forgot about the car wreck, the drunk driver, the endless nights that had been lacking in sleep but full of tears. It was those days when she realized it wasn’t the remembering that hurt the most, it was the forgetting.