“That's the last of it,” April said, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

She had more stuff than she realized, even after getting rid of so much before the move. Well, she didn't get rid of as much as she should have. These boxes held memories, and that mattered more than previously since she wouldn't be able to make more. Not with him anyway.

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay and help unpack? There's so much here.”

April shook her head with a tired smile, “I can handle unpacking mom. It'll give me something to do.”

She needed something to do, anything to take her mind off the emptiness that occupied her every waking moment. Truthfully, she knew that unpacking these boxes would deepen the void but she wanted to be alone with those memories. She wanted to feel the pain they would bring. It had to be better than this numbness that settled inside of her.

“I don't think you should be alone sweetie; it hasn't been long since...”

Her mother's words trailed off; she wouldn't bring herself to say it yet. April's husband was dead. Caught in the crossfire of a shootout between the police and their suspect. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time; it was no one's fault. The wife couldn't even bring herself to blame anyone for it; she knew her husband wouldn't want that. He wouldn't want her to dwell on his death but to celebrate his life.

“You don't need to worry Mom. It's been two months, and I've leaned on everyone long enough.”

Leaned on, was an inaccurate way to describe the past two months. Her first catastrophic break down was when she had to identify Ian's body. Even as she said that it was, in fact, he husband lying on the cold metal table, her mind refused to believe it. She fell to the floor in a tantrum of tears and screams, her father and brother had to carry her out of the room. After that, she locked herself in her bedroom and refused to come out unless she had to. When the funeral was over, she stayed in her room for almost three weeks. Both sides of the family took shifts to take care of her, including staying up during the night to make sure April didn't do anything regrettable. You want to think that you'll handle such a situation with some measure of poise and grace but when the moment comes you find out who you really are. April discovered she was a hopeless coward.

The mother's face was doubtful, “As long as you're sure. I'm only a phone call away.”

April reassured her mother that a new home was just what she needed to move on and after several hugs, she was finally alone. The house was old but charming, built from sturdy brick. It was a major downgrade from the home she shared with her husband, only having two rooms. She almost rented an apartment, but the thought of being that close to her neighbors pushed her to purchase a home in the outskirts of farm country. She didn't mind the ten extra minutes of driving to get to town or a neighbor or two stopping by to chat. It was what she needed, the opposite of the city life.

Night came quickly, and all she managed to unpack was the kitchen items she needed. None the less she deemed the day a success. April grabbed a wine glass, filling it more than socially acceptable. By the end of her drink, tears stained her face and eyes became heavy. She slouched in her seat, sleep claiming her. The only light was the romantic comedy playing with no one watching. A figure stepped from the shadows, curiously watching the TV. It's heard turned towards the woman sleeping, whose face twitched in a nightmare. A dark hand reached for her, but April's stirring caused the figure to shrink back. There was no rush, it decided. The woman had only arrived today, and she was alone. There was plenty of time for introductions.