After a month Ewan had effectively drowned his grief in a mixture of bitter alcohol and salt tears. His mirrors showed him who he left behind, who he was before she died. Little changed in his physical presence. His days consisted of work - morning and afternoon, running every path in the local park time after time - after dinner, and drinking - night.
It took him three weeks to build up the courage to clean the apartment he had shared with Clare. It was a rainy Saturday. Clouds were as grey as his life. He had just returned from the park. Soaking wet. In a pile of clean clothes he found a shirt. He hadn't seen it for weeks. Clare would usually wear it to bed. And then suddenly he realised that she wasn't there anymore. And the decision was made. Everything that had belonged to her had to go.
He stuffed everything in a large box, and then another one when the first was full. Clothes. Pictures. Books. Toothbrushes. Bags. Papers. Pens. Ukelele. Towels. CDs.
The next day, he unpacked everything again and made a big pile of stuff right next to the bed. Clare lay there for the next five days. His mother came by and cleaned it up while he was at work.
Alan took him out from time to time. Meeting new people was supposed to help. Ewan didn't really feel like it, but did it anyway. He met some new people. Didn't really help.
Alan tried to hook him up with this girl he knew from somewhere. She was pretty. And she took him home. And Ewan felt so sorry when he left after she had fallen asleep. She seemed nice enough.
After a month Ewan saw that there was nothing more to be done. And that what lay ahead was just as unpredictable as her death. So he'd just have to go along.