• I closed my eyes for a few moments, allowing my body to sink into the soft, comfortable cushions before I opened them again. The wonderful silence washed over me, broken by nothing but the gentle ticking of the clock hanging over the mantelpiece.

    Since I had never been one for idleness, I reached out for the mail, grabbing the yellow envelope half-hidden under two utility bills. I froze when I recognised the family messy scrawl with which my name and address had been written across the thick paper.

    The air suddenly became too thin in here. Hastily standing up, I moved towards the balcony, pushing the glass door open before stepping outside. The fresh afternoon air was rejuvenating, and I felt calm when I sat down on one of the chairs of the outdoor setting. My apartment was situated high above the city and in the light of the afternoon the ocean peaked out from between the tops of the palm trees, shining iridescently in the sunlight.

    My hands shook as I tore the top of the envelope off before reaching in to pull out the contents. A warm emotion welled up in me when I saw the familiar picture of us together that day in the middle of the strawberry fields, when we were together, when we were happy.

    I wondered if he was as miserable I was, there in the much colder New York Autumn with the boughs of brown leaves and the chill in the air, that sense of distance. I wondered if he was sitting there with his cigarette in hand, looking out over the horizon towards the sun. I wondered if he felt it, that gnawing sense of loss, of something being missing, like how I was.

    Tracing my thumb against the line of his jaw, I was surprised to see a drop of wetness hit the photograph. With shaking hands, I grabbed the edges of the photograph, slightly dog eared at the edges and pulled, tearing it in two. I repeated the process, blinking profusely to try and stave off the tears that stung my eyes.

    When there was nothing left but tiny fragments, I opened my hand, holding them towards the ocean. The small pieces glinted softly in the sunlight and I caught a glimpse of clear blue eyes looking at me. My breath caught in my throat.

    A strong breeze blew past, kicking up the remnants of the photograph out of my outstretched hands, away from the balcony and away from me.

    I didn’t feel the sense of resolution I had been expecting. If anything, I felt even worse. Up until that point I felt like I had been holding myself together with spit, but now that I had accepted that he was gone, that he would not be coming back, I finally allowed the emotional walls to come shattering down and grieve for what could have been.