Only the wind whipping in the trees outside could be heard in the room, with a neatly made bed and hardwood floors that steadily gathered dust, while a woman wrapped herself in a large blanket, wearing man's clothes and clutching a stuffed dog to her chest.
"Where are you?"
A silent rasp from parched and cracking lips, a plea to the endlessly blue sky that she detested. "You're not anywhere anymore, but you have to be somewhere,"
Slim and slender, shaking fingertips pressed against the icy glass, followed by a palm desperately pressed upon the pane. "David," Her forehead hit the window as well, and the hand clenched into a fist as dry sobs wracked her body once more. The doctor had no more tears to shed. They'd been wasted on the plane ride and the funeral.
"Oliver," she hugged the toy tighter, as greasy locks of hair, a victim of neglect, fell into her face.
While soft green eyes surrounded by bright bloodshot red closed painfully, burning with dryness and seeking the refreshment of sleep that would not come, knuckles rapped against the door in a soft rhythm. "Miranda," Her cousin's voice, sympathetically soft and unusually kind. "I brought you some soup."
That was easily identifiable, the smell of the chicken noodle wafting through the cracks of the door and greeting her with the realization that she hadn't eaten in a week, and that she was hungry, with no appetite. "Come in," The archaeologist politely replied, curling herself up on the cushion of the bay window once more, ignoring the aching complaints of her unused muscles.
Gratefully, she took the mug from her cousin's pale hands, let him tuck the blanket around her once more, took a pillow from the bed and gave it to her to rest upon. "Jack," Miranda frowned, spying something new that hadn't been there three years ago, when she announced her engagement to David at that Fourth of July party that she tried so hard not to think about. "What's in that shed?"
"Just my mom's gardening stuff," he said. "She was saying something about gardening calming you down, if you wanna try,"
Sipping the broth, the blonde nodded. "I'd like to try later, thank you." Jack nodded and left, leaving her cousin to finish the soup and going to alert his mother.
Once again, her eyes fell to the sky, where the sun had been obscured by the clouds. ".... Can you hear me? If you can't, that's okay... I'll be there soon."
The familiarity of the wooden shovel handle gripped in leather gloves was the only assurance she needed while she slammed the cold metal spade into her head, knocking herself unconsciousness and failing to do what she'd hoped for it to, but at the same time, becoming a complete success.
They couldn't hear each other anymore.
