I knew I had to get my mind off of this situation. She couldn't be gone. Because if you loved someone that much, you'd know if they had left you. I still felt her. So she was still alive.
I went to the shop, knowing it may take my mind off of it for a few hours, but upon reaching it I couldn't even go in. So I took a seat on the plastic chair outside, lighting up a cigarette. Before I knew it I was onto a whole new pack, tears still cascading from my eyes. I looked and felt like a mess.
But chain-smoking must be the cure to all worrying. Or atleast some sort of aid, because I was feeling the tiniest fraction of calmer.