She followed the sounds, the familiar sounds... she was losing her mind. There was no way he was here, still in their home. She rested her hand against the wall. She used to walk into rooms, for years after he died, and expect him to be there. She stepped around the corner and into the kitchen and her breath caught.
He looked so young, but she looked young as well. She remembered being so happy with him when they were that age, they had taken so many trips and made love all over this house. She doubted he would even want to see her. Her fingers grasp the doorframe, trying to summon the courage to say something, anything. Finally in a soft whisper, she finally spoke, "I'm sorry."