She always had such pretty eyes – a shade of blue that seemed almost unnatural. I doubt if I'll ever find the other eye. So much was compromised in the fall. Now, everything that matters is broken. My heart, her neck, the whole lot.
If only I had gotten there sooner. Perhaps I could have said or done something to keep her on the ledge and eventually return her to my loving embrace. But I was too late, and the gusting winds were too strong. She'd chosen to live, but the cold front had overridden her decision.
And now I'm left – alone – to pick up the pieces. That one there looks like a toe. She had the cutest toes I've ever seen. Not so much anymore. She always hated it when I tickled her feet, but I simply couldn't resist. Maybe one last time, for old time's sake. I'm sure she won't protest.
Rest in pieces, Romilda.