I didn't notice at first, but the house had become quieter; it seemed the staff and the housekeeping robots had noticed the coldness. The quiet is not soft, nor is it the lived-in own that used to hum between Elena and me when we worked in separate rooms but remained aware of each other. This was an absence, a hollowing that keeps gnawing on my insides.
I felt it when I woke alone.
Her side of the bed was cold, untouched; the faint psychic warmth that used to linger, the echo of her dreams brushing against mine, was gone. Not severed, just… distant. Like a radio signal fading as you drove farther from the tower.
I sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over my face, the vision flashing between my gaze again.
Now it showed Elena walking away down a long corridor, her back straight, her steps steady. She never looked back.
"Stop," I muttered to the empty room.
It didn't.
