You’d think that it would be the big, noticeable things that would have the most impact, after the person you love leaves you. Empty shelves without pictures on them, the unbroken silence of being alone in your apartment, that sort of thing. I’m realizing, though, that it’s actually the little, tiny moments that slip inside and puncture you just that little bit more. Things like realizing that it’s the first time you’ve gone an entire day without talking to her in six years. The way that whenever something happens, your first thought is telling her about it. Being nearly asleep in bed and reaching out a hand to touch her. Saying “we” instead of “I”- we live here, we love watching this show. Every habit of six years of a life together.