The city stretched out beneath me in a haze of glass and rain. From the balcony of my pent house, the skyline glittered; beautiful, soulless, and far too loud for the kind of silence pressing inside my chest.

The wind brushed past, sharp and cold, carrying the scent of asphalt and exhaust. But no lavender. No warmth. No trace of her.

I rested my palms on the railing, the metal cool beneath my hands. The sun was trying to rise but the clouds refused to let it through, and for a long time I just ...