He slams the door to his apartment, tossing his coat unceremoniously on the floor. He shoves the door open to his computer room and sits down only to stand up again, gesticulating wildly. He grabs the chair and tosses it across the room in a fit of rage. He slams his fist into the wall and drives it through the plaster. In his mind, he knows his hand is broken, but his mind is not in control right now.
He stalks through his house, grabbing every picture of them together and shattering them. Hot tears stream down his face as he screams in an unknown tongue at the pictures. Picture after picture shatters. Pictures that remind him of what he used to have. Shattered. Pictures that show her smiling. Shattered.
He drops to his knees and lets out a cry that wrenches at the hearts of passerbys. They hear the loss and despair in his voice. He curls up into a ball in the middle of his living room and closes his eyes. After a short time he stops breathing. His heart flutters then falls still.
"Wake up."
His eyes start open as he looks into her face. His body, drenched in sweat, spasms with his loss. She smooths back his hair and kisses him softly. Reality slowly returns to him as he feels her lips touch his cold skin. He clings to her as the dream vanishes from him. Never wanting to feel that way again, he makes up his mind, then and there. He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls a small box out of the drawer. An odd way for their marriage to start, he says to himself, but he now knows just how strong his love for her is. He would die without her. In fact. . . he already has once.
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