She thinks she'd like to live in a movie, where the people suffer through trials and tribulations, feel extreme sadness, loss, and subsequently, find true happiness. She wants to feel, she wants to know that there is more than the nothingness that consumes her. But, she hasn't told anyone this, and it really doesn't bother her. There is something comforting in the way the plot of a romance unfolds, just as there is something alluring in a tragic hero. To her, this is all obsolete. She wants nothing more than to feel, to care that she has become little more than a shadow of her former self. It is unclear to her when she stopped crying, smiling, being. All she knows is that she has, and if she were able to, she'd probably be frightened by this fact. Instead, she sits there, basking in the glow of the sun, watching leaves budding, the flowers blooming, but it means not a thing to this mere shell of a person. The beauty she once saw in all that is seems so far away, so distant now. She hasn't said a word since he went away, not a single word. People say her heart isn't what it used to be, her days are numbered.. but the truth of the matter is, she doesn't care. She isn't waiting for death, only for that single moment.. the one that only she knows is coming, it's the one thing that she can feel.

A tiny butterfly lands on her knee, and she looks down.. she smiles at it. A smile.. she places a pale, slender finger beside the creature and feels her heart warm as it steps carefully onto her tired flesh. For the first time in so very long, she sees beauty.. the intricate, dazzling patterns on this insect.

An insect.. so much more to her. She sees him in its tiny little form. Its wings remind her of the way his eyelids used to flutter open in the morning.. and its dainty little legs crawling over her are his fingers, moving slowly.. tenderly.. lovingly.

It flies away shortly after, and as it goes, she feels something seep from her body and drift away on the passing breeze. She laughs out loud, startling the day, a lonely blue bird, and herself.

Sometimes it is the tiniest thing that guides us through a rough time.. and sometimes, all we need is to know that something gone is always with us, in some way.. maybe even in the subtle wind created by the gentle flutter of a butterfly's wings.

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