remembering

She finally remembered.
Those times spent lying face up on the grass in the meadow, looking up at the sky together with him. They would breathe in the deep scent of the flowers and watch those beautiful butterflies flutter past them, not having a care for anything else in the world. How she missed those times. Now that he was gone, these times would become just a memory that was etched deep into her mind and nothing else. She missed him. So much, in fact, that as she now stood in front of the mirror, she wept. This pain she was feeling was much more worse than having a thousand knives being stabbed into her. She hated looking at herself in the mirror. Sunken cheeks, bloodshot eyes, oily hair that hung like a curtain, obscuring her soul from the outside world.

She remembered.
And she hated it.