The morning didn't rise. It crawled in. Bleak, grey, and cold, spilling across the shattered floor of her room like it was ashamed to be there.
Hayden sat in the middle of it all, his back against her wardrobe. The door hung open beside him, crooked on its hinges like it had been yanked too hard, too many times. Inside, her scent still lingered in the clothes, the ones now lying limp across the floor, crushed beneath his boots.
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