Alone, bereft… lost. It’s ridiculous for a man my age, well, I’m only twenty-seven, but still. And I should be used to it, I’ve been alone all my life. I grew up on the Corazon Perdido Ranch with my father and in our house and on the ranch it was hard to avoid each other, but as far as he was concerned, I didn’t exist. The problem was, and still is, that women don’t die in childbirth but my mother did, and no one would dare to admit that it was my father’s fault and not mine. Now Scarlet’s gone and for two months I’ve been going through the motions of everyday life: Get up, sink my face into the pillow where her head once was, (I refuse to let the maid wash her pillowcase) drink in the sweet honeysuckle smell of her, take a shower and use my own fucking hand to try and satisfy this constant craving for her. Then I go about my day and wear myself out with punishing physical labor so I’ll be too tired to think of her at night. It isn’t working for shit. I miss her, I want her in my bed, my house… my life.
