The curtains blew like ghosts through open windows as Janelle wandered naked through the big house. It wasn't because the summer heat kept her from sleeping tonight, she just hadn't slept well since the last time Ethan had shared her bed. She took a deep breath, pausing briefly before the windows, staring into the darkness with Ethan's face before her. Ethan. She would never see him again, never feel his fingers gliding over her skin, never feel his weight upon her, never feel him kiss her again. Janelle wiped a tear from her cheek and walked to the kitchen, putting her empty glass in the sink. She was tired now, so very tired. Maybe she would be able to sleep after all. Tomorrow was another day, Janelle told herself as she laid across the bed she'd shared with Ethan for nearly six years. More than a year had passed since Ethan had been gone. Janelle was surprised when the date came and went, surprised she had survived that long without him. Surprised she had survived so long alone. And she had been alone. Her friends finally quit trying to get her to date, to come out with them. She had turned down every invitation they had extended. She didn't answer the phone, erased messages from the machine without listening to them, she didn't go to work anymore. She lived in the house Ethan had built, the home they had made together, wrapped in the memories they had made. She didn't need any more than that. Ethan walked through the big house alone. His bare chest bronzed from the sun, his sun-bleached hair falling over one shoulder. Pulling the double French doors open, he welcomed the breeze that brushed his hair back and cooled his skin. He sat on the railing of the big porch and propped up his bare feet. He had lived alone before and he could do it again, at least he thought he could. He just had to get his bearings, get his feet back on steady ground. He just had to breathe. In and out. In and out. One breath at a time. He could do that. He'd been doing that since he lost Janelle. He could keep doing it. He hoped so anyway. He padded back to the kitchen and pulled another beer from the fridge. He had the cap off and the bottle to his lips before the fridge door was shut. Beer took the edge off. Beer helped him sleep. But not tonight. Tonight he couldn't drink enough to get Janelle off his mind long enough to shut his eyes. A year had passed since the accident that killed her. Since he had killed her. He was driving the car. He swerved to miss the car that pulled out in front of them. He was the one who lost control. He was to blame for Janelle's death, and no matter what anyone else said, he couldn't forgive himself for that.
About the Author: Jennifer is in her early 30's, and grew up in New York City. She attended Columbia University. Jennifer enjoys working on characters for her short stories, and plot lines while sipping coffee in Central Park on her favorite bench. She claims that the buzz of people around her contributes to her creativity. Other favorite places to compose stories include Grand Central Terminal, riding the Metro during off-peak times, and in the lobby of the Plaza Hotel. Oftentimes, she is inspired by people she interacts with or observes out in the world, and very much incorporates scenarios and characteristics into her writing. Sometimes, story lines occur naturally, as though the universe is giving her a present. Other times, she struggles for days or weeks to map out a story. To combat writer's block and other common ails that seem to plague artists, Jennifer turns to long walks and of course, chocolate. The best walks are those where she gets on a train and randomly selects a stop. Many surprising shops and late-night diners (and characters, for that matter) have been discovered this way. Jennifer loves New York City, and all of the people that find refuge here. She maintains close friendships with those she grew up with, and is very active with her local writer's group. Her hobbies include traveling to far-flung destinations to soak up local culture, and she has never missed an opportunity to try out her skills as an aspiring photographer. Jennifer keeps a small notebook with her at all times to jot down random thoughts that occur to her throughout the day.