Buffy looked out at the poorly lit street. It was a cold and rainy night, she had a cup of tea on the desk next to her, a blanket wrapped around herself and a shiver ran through her every now and then. It was London.
 
If she closed her eyes. Oh, if she just closed her eyes. She could see the days when London’s wet and empty streets had seemed so romantic. She could see herself on the now vacant couch, snuggled next to her vampire, giggling at his protests about the movie she had rented.
She tried not to close her eyes.
 
If she took a deep breath. Oh, if she just took a deep breath. She could smell the burned cookies she threw at him. She could smell the candles he lit when he wanted the night to be special. She could smell his shampoo. She could smell him.
She tried not to breathe it all in.
 
If she thought. Just for a moment. Just... Maybe she’d see him on the corner of the street, walking toward their apartment. But maybe wasn’t enough.
So she really tried not to.