[ like so many things in this warehouse, the couch has become a sign that this is more their home than anything else, even if it doesn’t exactly match with everything else, even if it’s probably seen better days by now. she’s too attached to it to consider getting rid of it; she even likes the way it creaks when he sits down on it, a reminder of just how big he is.

it’s comforting, familiar, like he is to her now, and when she’s hurled into so much uncertainty about the world and how someone could be gone in an instant, gone for real without the promise of coming back, she’s clinging to what is certain and right in front of her, one hand idly twisting in his shirt as he runs his touch over her hair. ]

She was my friend, y’know? And she was there for me. I’m kinda startin’ to get used to that. [ people she can count on, rely on, consider as dear to her after so many years of being with a man who treated her without any care whatsoever. she sniffles once, but there aren’t any fresh tears to fall. ] It just sucks a whole big bag of dicks. Like you can get close to someone and… poof. They’re gone. Out of your life. Maybe forever.