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It was the little things that seemed so unimportant, yet were held so dear.



Small pieces of trivia that she’d picked up on over the years. Like his favourite number – upright infinity, and how he was allergic to pistachios, and where she could tickle so that he’d laugh the most.



The tiny quirks, both annoying and cute, that she noticed and filed away in the back of her mind. Like how he stirred his coffee in a figure eight, and the irritating habit he had of drinking milk straight from the carton. That he was fascinated by toys, how you could tempt him to do almost anything with PEZ as a bargaining chip, and that money didn’t interest him in the slightest.



The quintessential features, such as the adorable mole perched just below his eye, and the expressions that were simply Jarod, no one else. The scar at the back of his shoulder, and that one lock of hair that always curled right above his ear.



There were the adorable traditions he adopted – like calling her, no matter the time, if he was away, and sounding as though something were wrong when she answered with hello. Or telling her he loved her a thousand times over, as if he were certain she wouldn’t believe him. Or speaking to her stomach, despite her insisting she hated it.



It was the little things that seemed so unimportant, yet spoke such volumes.



Pedantic particulars, like the way the house would look at Halloween, and exactly how to decorate the Christmas tree – an angel on top, never a star. How their celebrations for New Years weren’t over until the end of the third day in January.



The adamant ways of treating her, as if he were a king doting upon his queen. The endless devotion he gave to family, the efforts he would go to please them, the gentle affection he showed towards the rabbit they kept in the backyard.



How he was pretending even when he told her he’d left all that behind, and how his bedtime stories always involved rescuing a princess from a tower and an evil tyrant. The look on his face that he hid so well that told how much he wished life could be more like fairytales, and the sad smile he wore as he watched her and Angel – not Katie, as she’d originally wanted - cutting out snowflakes to decorate the windows.



The fact that their daughter had brown eyes, not blue.



It was the little things that seemed so unimportant, yet meant something more.



How he loved her to dress in white, though she knew it didn’t suit her. The way he overused her first name, almost as if he wanted to prove that he could. The way that he tried so hard, and made her want to too.



How his hand hesitated when he touched her hair – when he touched her, period. How he treated her like glass and seemed to constantly be making sure he wasn’t taking his world for granted.



It was the little things that seemed so unimportant, yet meant something more - and those were the things that hurt so much.



Just like the way that no matter how hard she tried, Zoë couldn’t help but feel that she was living someone else’s life.









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