
As soon as she wakes up, she rolls over to her side and reaches out, her fingers grasping at the air until they fall to her sheets and she clutches at them, drawing it closer to her.
Everyday it’s the same.
Everyday she wishes she could wake up with someone, or at least look forward to a day where she could wrap her fingers around his hand, where she could feel his warmth spread through her as he loops his arm across her shoulders and presses her to his side.
Everyday it’s a torment, knowing that she’s hopeless and waiting in vain.
“To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”
(Source: listenlikespring, via harrypottergif)