[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] estdeus_innobis
Friday, May 21st
The Cafe', early evening


He was gone.
When my eyes fluttered open, I went to touch his head, but it was not there.  The bed beside me still felt warm, and I could still smell him in my nightgown... but there was no Kent.

There never was a Kent.  There has always been the being that wore a face that pleased me, and played a part that charmed me, but there was never a real Kent Whitman.

Except there was.  For three days, Kent Whitman was a living, breathing human man who loved me, and his daughter.  Who laid in my arms, and felt more real to me than anything else in this world.  I wished for him, and he was here.  I don't know how, but he was here.  It wasn't a facade, or a act, or even like when we all forgot.  Kent was alive, and mine.  And I was his.  And we were happy

I could only lie there and cover my face and weep for what might have been until Rose woke and started to cry.  A quick scan of her thoughts told me she was confused as well, but how could I explain to her something I could not understand myself?  I merely held her close, and told her over and over that I loved her, and I was sorry, even though I had not idea what I was apologizing for.

The day passed in somewhat of a blur.  I opened, worked, and closed.  And that was all I could manage.  Cooking be damned.  Off to the cafe' with us.  With Rose comfortable in her sling, I find a table and take a seat, ordering a salad with grilled chicken.  But I really have no appetite for it, just push a piece of carrot around with my fork, replaying the last three days in my head.

Three days... I had three days...

(Open)

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