She tiptoed to the dusty room in her apartment that she used to store the things that she didn't need but couldn't bear to throw away- in other words, junk. She would do this sometimes, when she felt strong enough. But what she was looking for was not junk- in fact, it was the opposite. It was the only reminder she had of him.

He was wonderful, just wonderful. Amazing. He was the only one who understood her. He knew how she felt. He didn't discriminate against her, like others did, stating that she was bulimic because all she cared about was being gorgeous. He was the one who fought with her parents so that she could have her own apartment. It was, of course, ironic that her apartment was where their relationship ended. She sighed. She was past crying about it, but it was still heartbreaking.

She had gotten what she had wanted now, a black, shiny and carefully protected suitcase, and stepped into the living room, dizzy with apprehension and excitement. She opened the suitcase to reveal a white comforter, soft and fluffy. It was a gift that he had given her back in their rehab days, when he would somehow manage to sneak into her room to visit her every night.

Even after she had gotten out and moved into her own apartment, he would visit her. Sometimes, when it was especially hot, they would spread the comforter on the ground and sleep on it. She never used to care about it being uncomfortable, not when she was with him.

Remembering made her unwillingly tear up again. She was clever, and had an excellent job. Her future looked bright, and of course she would find another person who loved her as much as he did. But right then, she want nothing better than to cling to the past.