This is from my current WIP...the aimless wandering of a lost soul...but things are about to get better for her, my character's name is Madge. Madge is about to turn a corner...I can feel it:
Where I go when I can’t go to him is a silent place, a place that controls my emotions in a noisy and unpredictable way but that moves my body quietly from one room to another in search of empty coffee mugs that might still have a trace of his taste on them. It’s something like gravity, the way his absence magnetizes everything around me. I’m drawn to the comb in the bathroom drawer that reminds me of the way he says he wore his hair in the seventh grade, slicked back with Murray’s pomade because his mama said it made him look like Rhett Butler. I’m pulled into the closet where his shoes are unlaced as always, and I have to touch the tongue because I can see his fingers there now fussing with the leather to ensure a proper fit. The sink where he shaved and where he stopped shaving because I asked him to. It smells of the Old Spice he preferred over the kiddie stuff and I’m sniffing and sniffling because my body can’t let it go. My south to his north. My presence. Here. Now. His absence, a force I can’t resist.