It would've been a year as of today. It should've been.
There would've been a bed & breakfast on the New England coast, and walking, huddled into warm coats, along the shore or in the woods. There would've been a meal cooked together, and wine. There would've been a necklace of silver and aquamarine. There would've been music. And the most wonderful, amazing, perfect thing that had ever happened to me in my life.
Instead there's just me, and Syracuse, and a bottle of vodka and doubt and fear. And a little bit of hope that that wonder might come back.
...and I don't feel any different.
Countdown: 59 days