She stood up and walked to the mirror, catching her reflection in the moonlight. She looked exhausted, a ghost haunting her own bedroom. She realized she had been asking "Where are you?" to an empty room for ninety days.
Snap. She pictured his jacket—the denim one she’d finally dropped in a donation bin last week. She thought she was over the scent of his cologne, but her brain kept inventing it in the middle of the night. She stood up and walked to the mirror,
With one final, sharp snap, she grabbed her headphones. She didn't need the silence anymore; she needed to drown out the echoes. As the song pulsed in her ears, she started pacing. If she couldn't stop the memories, she’d just have to move faster than they could follow. With one final, sharp snap, she grabbed her headphones
Snap. She saw the coffee shop where they’d had their last fight. The taste of cold espresso and the way the rain looked against the window. Snap. Snap. Snap. she whispered to herself.
By the time she hit "five," the sun was beginning to bleed through the blinds. He wasn't there, but for the first time, she was okay with the empty space.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers trembling. The therapist had told her to use "grounding techniques" when the spiral started. Snap out of it, she whispered to herself.