Impatience corroded the inner lining of her heart; it weakened her pulse fractionally with every passing day. Her breaths grew more shallow. His absence was an aching black hole centered in her chest - a ceaseless maelstrom of violent agony and wretched sadness. She had never missed someone in such a consuming way; she'd never thought it possible to continue living with a piece of herself suddenly vanished - but still, she woke every day and was faced with the draining task of rising from the bed.
And every day she told herself, "It's just a series of hours," but it never helped.