His memories of her have faded, the details slipping through his fingers with each passing day. Recollections slowly smudging the page.
He tried to move on like many did. Closing his eyes and wading through the day with a detached air, floating above the chaos that had inevitably ensued.
Four years later and life continued.
He remembered the last time he saw her, not her face or the room they were in but the feeling. The weight of her final words, the betrayal and hurt that threatened to break her.
Other than his dreams, that was the last time he saw her.
He went back the day after but she was gone. Her room was untouched, nothing but the senile cat staring at him with indifference.
The explanation he was told was of Gods on distant moons, battling for the fate of the Universe.
All he heard was that she was gone forever.
Many imploded after that day, senseless violence born from the ashes. Looting and murder and rape commonplace as the scales attempted to balance.
After a while they did. People clutched to religion or each other but eventually the dust settled. They were even stronger for it. Brought together with a common goal, to rebuild and live on.
He clung to the memory of how they met - two lost souls, reeling from the past. The stupid book she was reading as he first laid eyes on her. She’d looked tired, needing a lifeline as the waves beat her senseless. He was that for her, and her for him.
But nothing lasts.
People are messy, complicated, filled with dreams and nightmares they barely understand themselves.
A part of him could never shake the feeling that she just left in the night. Disappeared in the chaos to live a life far from him. That she would come back and things would return to how they were.
Maybe it was better this way, that she was at peace wherever she was.
He sat with the old cat in his apartment. The passage of time measured in the bottles that littered the floor.
The black cat stared at him, its eyes reflecting his own emotions back. He grew angry, furious at this constant reminder of her absence. He raised the bottle above his head with murderous intent - not wholly prepared for the outcome.
The sudden change in energy caused the cat to bolt into the wardrobe.
He grew ashamed at what he had nearly done, the weight of his emotions threatening to crumble him to dust. The apartment was sitfling, walls closing in with the pressure of a thousand suns. He needed to escape-to outrun the storm consuming him.
The streets of the city were dark. The few stars a faded reminder of his insignificance.
One person camped out on the sidewalk, waiting with bated breath at the spot they had watched their loved one crumple into dust. A loyal dog faithfully expecting their owner to return.
He wandered the quiet streets without a destination in mind. The brisk autumn air failed to halt his progress towards the monument he found himself in front of.
Multiple pillars filled a small plaza in the heart of the city. Names covered the smooth granite. Countless friends, families and lovers lay immortalised in stone.
Today was the anniversary of the day half the world disappeared. Flowers covered much of the ground, a jarring juxtaposition to the cold grey granite. He saw a few others lost in thought at this late hour.
Knowing nods where shared between lost souls.
He could never bring himself to find her name. One of countless others among a sea of white text. It felt insulting, that she was reduced to nothing but a tag. That after he died the last memory of her existence would be a tiny etching.
His heart felt heavy with emotion, as if the granite pillars were pressing into his chest.
A thought struck him. He had never shed tears for her loss. He had felt sad, an almost constant pressure. But never had he allowed those feelings to be released.
He wondered if it would be different had she not been a casualty of an uncaring universe. Would she take him back, would she forgive him. Choices that were unfairly removed from the board.
Many religions had sprung up in the wake of the tragedy. The Dusted were hailed as chosen martyrs, raptured to spend their days in eternal Valhalla.
He despised that.
“WHERE DOES THAT LEAVE US” he would shout to missionaries on the street. Unrestrained rage at the thought he was left to pick up the pieces.
The gravity of the monument threatened to pull him, to make him crack. He turned sharply as the scent of wilting flowers hit his senses. Leaving to find solace in the quiet of the city.
He continued to meander through the empty streets. Stopping over a high bridge to peer at his reflection in the canal cast by the moonlight.
He looked changed. Would she still recognise his face? Tormented by four years of regret. Dark shadows lining his sunken eyes.
Slowly he climbed onto the railing. The brisk autumn breeze focusing his thoughts.
With one final glance at the dim stars reflected in the dark river, he let himself believe that wherever he was going, he might see her one last time. The icy depths felt almost peaceful.
When she returned. He was gone.