Folded laundry. Unfolded laundry. Lists. Spilling suitcases. Packing for a holiday. I unzip a carry-on bag, and I see remnants of one of Robb's business trips.
Seriously? How have I never opened this suitcase in the last eleven months? How can there be anything still hiding? Does this haunted forest never end?
My breath catches in my throat.
I hear myself talk to him. I almost never talk to him. Not out loud.
I hold his things in my hands. I look at my mess scattered across the living room. Oh, how little of this I have needed to do before. Robb would have had us packed two days ago, batteries charged, DVDs gathered, headphones packed, snacks delineated. It would have bothered him that my laptop wasn't yet charged and stowed. He was so good at this.
I just get it done. Packing is overwhelming. And overrated.
Pandora plays through the speakers above the TV.
"How Great Thou Art."
I make myself listen. I close my eyes. I rock myself, holding my pieces together.