Nostromo

Whenever I fear losing my husband, my heart caves into darkness. Decades haven't dulled the rush of love, comfort, and swirling butterflies he conjures. I'm selfish, but I'd rather fade first than endure the black void of his absence.

Suddenly, you reach an age when people around you start dying—so unexpectedly. One day, they’re wishing you a happy New Year and talking about promotions; ten days later—bam—they’re gone. It’s so strange, so jarring.