Melinda finally managed to get up off the floor of the living room and make her way to the kitchen, her eyes still puffy from crying. She sat at the kitchen table, staring out the window into the snowy darkness of the December night, falling deeper and deeper into her depression.
All around her were reminders of Tom. The pan of brownies he had made only the night before sat on the counter. Pictures of Tom and Melinda with smiling faces were stuck to the fridge with magnets. Even the pots and pans brought back memories of cooking with Tom.
Melinda knew there was no way she was going to escape her pain while staying in her house. She ran upstairs to her bedroom, grabbed her keys, and headed for the door. Her best friend, Chelsea, would surely let her spend a couple of nights at her house. Melinda just needed some space and time to get over things.
Just as Melinda reached the outside door, the phone rang. Tom! she thought as she ran to pick up the receiver. She left the door wide open in her haste.