Snippets of Grief

 Sometimes I can't write to you because it means admitting you're gone. Sometimes I can't write to you because I'm too exhausted, and I just want you to lie across my couch and listen while I rant. 

 Today is a sad day. Even the sky is crying. Your dog is asleep on my couch, the music is playing, the world is muted. You're meant to be here too, sprawled across the couch. I keep looking over, like I think I'm going to see you there, but there's just Missy.