hellcatthunderstorms

He had always said she had the most beautiful eyes. They were gray with specks of golden brown, always glimmering in the light of the sun or moon. But now that he was gone, what good were they? Every day the only thing she would see were blurred photographs of him sitting on her bedside table. She didn't need them anymore; nothing was really worth seeing. So she went to the kitchen and grabbed a silver soup spoon. Shakily she stormed to her bathroom and slid the wooden door shut. Inside a cry sounded and something hard fell into the porcelain sink.