She buried herself in her hair, against his chest sobbing spasmodically and uncontrollably. Sometimes she gets strands of hair in her mouth but she’s too tired. She is much too tired to care. Pounding her fists against him she screams so much that she feels her heart rise up to her throat, threatening to leave her body through her mouth.
There is no one beside her, in front of her, near her. There is only this wall, lovingly painted in a time when things were better. When things were right. The person she used to cry against when times were low is gone, and so far this is the worst of them.
I think I’ll burn the apartment down.