Why Don't We One Shots

I Never Even Knew - Donah

"Good morning, sunshine," I say, opening my eyes against the sunlight that comes through the curtains, painting the room a soft gold. "Another day waking up without you."

Daniel, three years ago today, had died in a fire at his home. I missed him more and more wth each passing day, but I've learned to live with the pain coming in waves rather than the tsunami of it all at once.

Swinging my legs out of bed, I pick up the picture of Daniel and I on our one year anniversary, him smiling happily as I give him a kiss on the cheek. The four photos of us, arranged like they came out of a photo booth when, in reality, they were all taken at various times and places, were all I had left of Daniel.

"You would be so proud of me, my love," I whisper, afraid that my voice would come out to be as empty as the house without Daniel's beautiful existence in it to give it some life. "Today I'm finally going to sit down and start writing again. I'm going to believe in myself the way you always did."

☆☆☆

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Daniel asks adorably, propping himself up, chin in his palm. His blue eyes pierce into me, like he can somehow blaze his sight into my soul.

I laugh. "Daniel, I'm 22. I am grown up."

Daniel huffs, dropping his arms to let them rest atop each other, hiding his face in them so that the only thing that was visible were those eyes I love so much. "Fine then. If you could be anything you wanted, no matter how crazy, what would you be?"

I think for a moment. Daniel knows almost everything about me, even though we've only been together for six months. "Well, before my dad got sick, I used to write a lot. I always thought about being an author."

Daniel's eyes light up, and he pops his head up off his arms. "Let me read something!"

"I don't know, Dani. I doubt they're even good," I say, growing nervous.

"Come on, please?" Daniel pouts, tugging on my arm. "Never comes only when never is all that you know," he says, quoting one of his favorite phrases.

"Fine." I lead him upstairs to the guest bedroom in my house, opening the closet and pulling out a box. Inside were story ideas, half-finished manuscripts, and short stories I'd written in years past. "Pick one."

He lifts a small packet and begins reading. Within minutes of his eyes breezing past my words on the page, he's finished. He looks up at me and smiles brightly.

"This is fantastic Jo. Why don't you write like this anymore?"

I shrug. Daniel, not satisfied with this response, drapes an arm over my shoulders casually. "You should start writing again. You have a real talent here."

"Really?" I ask, hope leaking into my voice.

"Really." He kisses the tip of my nose, leaning his forehead on mine.

I smile. "Maybe someday..."

☆☆☆

After eating breakfast and grabbing a quick shower, I snuggle into one of Daniel's old hoodies and open my computer for the first time in months, creating a new document.

"The only problem is," I sigh aloud, continuing my one-sided conversation with Daniel's spirit, "is that I have no idea what to write about."

I tap the cap of my pen on the desk in Daniel's office, hearing in a hollow sound come through the piece of furniture. "What in the world?" I breathe out, rapping my knuckles this time on the top of the desk, making sure I wasn't just hearing things.