#6

Seven months later. Standing in the living room of my new house I take a hammer to the nail to hang the last of the unpacked framed photos. Him hugging me from behind with his lips pressed to my neck. I hear the keys jingling against the newly painted front door- I know it's him, I don't have to turn to make sure. I only alter the frame to make it hang evenly. Black frame against a third layer of emerald paint. He enters the room, I smell the flowers before I see him- lilac, my favorite. A new bouquet every Thursday. I turn and meet his eyes and a smile sprouts on my face before I can say anything. He looks dishevelled. His tie pulled loose, top button undone on his white shirt that was crisp and new this morning. As I move to the next box marked "books" he comes over and plants a kiss on my forehead. With light in his eyes he asks me how his two girls are doing. I say we're fine as my hand falls to my swollen stomach. He puts down the purple flowers on the unopened box, drops to his knees and gives my belly button a quick and sweet kiss. She kicks.
My eyes open to my ceiling, the same white paint they have opened to all my life. My vision is blurry with tears before I realize I'm in my bed. Three long tears crawl down my cheek for the loss of the life.