Will you grow old with me?

My eyes open. I roll to the side and a tear falls onto the sheets. I drag myself to the edge of the bed and land a step on the cold wooden floor, making my way downstairs.

I put the leaves of English Breakfast in the teapot, fry some eggs and make some toast like you used to do. As I seat myself on the chair, the plate falls just into place where you'd always put it - three fingers away from the edge, beside my mug. I breathe a sigh, maybe one of relief, and take a sip of the tea. It tastes different from the ones you brewed. I wonder what it was you did that made it different?

Then came the sound of the ice cream truck. I looked out of the window and saw the times where I'd whine and ask you to bring me out to get some. You'd kiss my forehead like a little girl and lead me out the door.

I always took strawberry, and you chocolate.

And as I sit in our house with nobody else at all, I know I'm not alone.

You're right here just like you've always been.