You and Spencer were together for ten years, and no one ever thought this would ever end; you were literal soulmates, or maybe you still are. It seemed that your destinies had crossed because of some sort of higher will; and maybe that same “higher will” caused you to break up, 10 years, 3 months, 19 days and a cohabitation with the promise of an eternal future afterwards. How to forget that day, the fight, the “You don't understand me anymore, it's over. We can't even tell each other how we are anymore. That's it, it's over.” Since then each on their own way, no contact. Categorical. And that would be fine too, if only you didn't still live in that house, yours, the same house where you shared about 2556 of the 3762 days you were together. His ghost was everywhere, in every wall, in every nook and cranny, in every crevice and speck of dust that he had to “absolutely keep away from his books before they were ruined and aged before their time.” Since he was gone you could no longer breathe, but your lungs were perfect; yet you felt it, that inability to fill them all the way. That was until you found a letter, hidden under the couch cushions. The handwriting was his, unmistakable. "My love, I miss you like air, so I'm writing you this letter and hiding it between the couch cushions, so the next time you sink into it you'll find it. You are everything to me. Remember how I always read you Kafka's Letters to Milena and you tell me you would like to receive one like it? Well, I'm not Frank Kafka, and I can't promise you anything more than a silly letter hidden among the pillows in our house. I don't know what to say. I love you, and I hope it's enough for you" And you find yourself there crying, and realizing that you need him. So you look for him, and you find him, but when you knock on his door, a woman opens up. "Yeah, what do you need?" she says. Then you see Spencer arrive with a child in his arms and hug her from behind " Who is it, my love?". That's it, you literally heard the sound of your heart shattering