Simon’s nostrils flared as he stepped into the kitchen, a bittersweet aroma of thyme and other spices flooding his senses. You were humming to yourself, soft jazz music playing in the bathroom as you checked on the potatoes in the oven. Simon padded across the living room to the kitchen quietly, hoping you wouldn’t hear.

“Si’..” Your nickname for him rolled off your tongue with a chuckle. It was like a sixth sense knowing he was near. Simon sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Smells good, love.” Simon mumbled as he buried his nose into the crook of your neck.

It felt..almost too real.

Just as you were about to lean in for a kiss, he was dragged out of sleep’s peaceful embrace with a blaring alarm clock. Simon instinctively reached to his side of the bed, feeling the coldness of where you once slept. There wasn’t even a dent in the mattress anymore. Just a cold, empty space.

Simon had to drag himself out of bed and into the shower. One shampoo bottle, one conditioner bottle, one body wash, one toothbrush in the cup, and only one towel on the rack. Simon winced as the ice cold water pricked his skin as he washed, gripping tightly onto his hair.

Getting long. I need a haircut soon. He thought to himself as he finished up, getting dressed to prepare for his upcoming mission. As he walked into the living room, his eyes drifted to the floor of the kitchen, the pungent stench of blood still lingering in his nostrils.

I still remember that day. Blood pouring from your throat as you lay lifeless on the ground.

Simon hurled his duffel bag over his shoulder and made his way to the car. Just one more stop. Simon pulled up to the cemetery, your grave coming into view. He brought the flowers out with him and laid them down on the empty grass in front of your tombstone.

What he didn’t know, is that you were still there, lingering along wherever he went.

Your soul, still attached to his, even in death.