Annuity

Jack lay there, staring up at the star strewn sky. The crisp air of winter's slow fading nipped at his exposed face. The rest of him, though warm in his sleeping bag, felt nothing but the chill of the cold lump of ice that was his heart.

He thought about the letter he had written. He tried to remember whether or not he had sent it, but at the moment his mind was a blank.

No. Not blank. But rather too filled with thoughts of Anne to function properly. He saw her face, her smile in his mind. Whispering to the clear, crystal sky he recited the letter and struggled to remember.

Dear Anne,

everyone tells me that time will heal all wounds. Well, I probably repeat this mantra more than anyone else simply because no one knows how I actually feel; I don't talk about it much with others. I'm hoping that it's true. With all of the time that we invested it will take awhile for me.

I've heard differing opinions on the subject. One friend says it will take 3 months for every year. Another says 6. Either way, I've got awhile to go. Maybe I'm more than half-way there, maybe not. Doesn't feel like it though. Feels like it was just yesterday.

There hasn't been a day that's gone by when I'm not thinking of you in some way. I want to look at your face, lose myself in your eyes. I want to touch your hands and hold them in mine. I want to wrap my arms around you and feel your warmth. Lay my head against your chest and hear your heart beating.

Like I used to.

But I realize that's just a fantasy and will never be. You left me and I can't get you back. You left. And I ran away.

My days are all the same. I shamble like the undead, going through the motions. Primitive instincts allow me to survive the day to day, to interact and get by. But instinct can only take you so far when you've lost the piece that completed you. And I feel like it's only a matter of time.

I'm not sure why I'm writing this. I know it will likely just go into my drawer with all of the other letters. Unsent. Unread. I don't know what the point is.

I know that you aren't coming back.

This happened to us because of me. I am carcinogenic. A poison. Cancer.

I don't seem to do any real good in this world. And with you gone, my inspiration gone, I'm beginning to wonder if I can.

We invested a lot of time and I'll gladly pay for it with my pain and hollowness. I wouldn't trade a second of the time I spent with you to make it go away. 

I loved you then, as I love you now. 

Jack wouldn't allow himself to cry. He didn't want to wake the others. Staring up at the countless stars, there was some comfort in the thought that maybe, just maybe, she was looking at the same sky.

And he lost himself in her eyes once again and imagined her next to him. It was a pleasant fiction to drift off to.

But it was only fiction.