I remember how I used to wake up beside you. Whether it was raining softly or the sun was coming through the window and turning your shoulder into soft gold, I would always wake up before you and watch you sleep.

I remember waking up beside you the day the world ended. It was cloudy and early spring. You had worked hard on a case and you slept quietly. By the time you had left later in the morning, the outside world was in chaos. You held strong, refusing to panic, you only made me promise that we would leave, go somewhere safe.

I remember when we found the roads blocked off and impassible. Many had already been evacuated or had fled, and you were so scared. We went back home and you helped me secure our house with boards, you helped me take the porch steps off so nothing could reach the doors. You were such a help to me in those first days.

I remember when the power went out and we held each other at night.

I remember how they would pound on the doors and windows of the houses all up and down the street, and when they would pound on ours we would look at each other, and you would reassure me that we were secure, that I had done everything right.

I remember the day you died. Without your pills to control your blood it was only a matter of time, we both knew it. When I left, you told me that you wouldn’t open the door for anybody that you were strong and not to worry about you.

I remember frantically searching through shelves and finding your medication. I took all the bottles I could carry, and I started home. It was raining the day you died. You always loved the rain.

I remember when I opened the door and saw you lying on the floor beside the bed. You had hemorrhaged somewhere inside and had bled to death in your sleep. I knew what to do so you wouldn’t come back.

I remember how we were before the world ended. I remember waking up beside you.

You’re buried in the basement. They’ve surrounded the house, and I just don’t feel like going on.

I’m going to lie down beside you and if I wake up nothing will have changed.

Perhaps, I’ll remember waking up beside you.