The lyrics to her favorite Van Morrison song played in his head. The man flipped over to lay on his stomach, punching his pillow into place. He put his head down, he didn't want to think about her. She was gone and that was that. Dwelling on it wasn't going to change things.
That damn song was on his Ipod playlist. She must have added it without him knowing. He took a mental note to delete it the first chance he got.
A memory of her cooking breakfast popped into his head. She used to love to put music on as she cooked. On this particular morning, she had told him to sleep in because she wanted to make him breakfast in bed. He had complied because, hey, she was an amazing cook. And who doesn't like to sleep in. When he heard the music coming from the kitchen, he could already picture her, spatula in hand, moving her lips to the words, swaying her hips. She was cute that way. He remembered getting out bed to watch her. Her hair up, she had on a tank top and boy-shorts. The girl hated to wear pants. A quality he was quite fond of. Her back was towards him as he leaned against the doorjamb, watching her. He must have made some sort of noise because she turned quickly and saw him. A slow smile had spread across her face, What are you doing out of bed? She must have sensed his vibe because she turned off the burner and they went back to bed, completely forgetting breakfast.
Yeah, he really needed to delete that song.
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