She was gone and there was nothing I could do.
Our house stood empty, her things were gone and for the first time I saw how little I owned.
The house was always full when we were together.
But now she was gone and the house was empty.
There was nothing there.
She had owned it all.
All the furniture, all the kitchen wares.
I didn’t have anything left.
Maybe I’d thought that we would be together forever and that’s why I didn’t have anything.
But that wasn’t it.
I really hadn’t understood how little I owned because the house was always a home full of things.
Now it was empty and I understood how much she meant to me.
How much she’d done for me.
And I regret everything I ever said to her.
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Categories: flash fiction