And every time I thought of him, I ached inside and I found it hard to breathe.

I had wondered a million times how I could possibly go on living when my heart was gone? How was it possible that it still beat in my chest when it felt so empty?

“Here you go, Mom.” I said, as I let the heavy bag fall to the ground. My mom stopped shoveling and bent over to rip open the bag. “Thanks Maggie May.” She said before dumping some salt on the sidewalk. “I don’t know why you bother. Just wait until it stops snowing. You realize it'll just have to be redone in the morning.” I told her, watching her freshly shoveled path disappearing under a blanket of white. “Because it'll be much worse in the morning if I don't do some of it now.” She said, returning to her task.

I just shook my head and turned to head back into the house. I stopped for a moment, possessed by some childish impulse. I turned my face upwards toward the sky and stuck out my tongue, letting the cold flakes melt in my mouth. I loved the snow and it, like almost everything else, reminded me of Clay. I remembered our time at the cabin, lying together in the loft as snow fell outside and thinking that I could never be happier than I was at that moment. I sighed. Those memories were a blessing and a curse. I was thankful that I had them, but they hurt so much. It had to get better eventually, right? I asked myself this every single day. I slowly trudged forward, my steps feeling heavier than they had before.

I tried hard to pull it all together. I wanted to be the daughter my parents deserved, and the friend I knew Rachel and Danny needed. But it was hard to be that girl some days. Maybe it was the lack of closure. Not knowing what Clay was doing, or how he was doing made it tortuous. Then there were the doubts that festered like a disease in my mind. Sometimes I found myself thinking that maybe he realized he was better off without me. That what we had wasn't as life altering for him as it had been for me. That maybe, I was alone in the love I still felt as deeply as I had from its onset. I tried to put my dismal thoughts away. Every day I tried. I couldn't let myself get mired in them, or I'd likely find myself in the same depression I had been drowning in for too long after leaving Clay lying there in the hospital. I determined that I must go on, move forward, live my life, and be as happy as I was capable of without him. Despite how daunting and impossible the task seemed.

I caught sight of the mail truck as it skidded to a stop in front of the house. I don't know why it made me pause, but it did. I walked out to meet the mail man. “Here, I'll get that.” I said, forcing a smile and taking the pile of envelopes. “Drive safely.” I told him as he got back in his truck. He thanked me and left.

My hands began to shake as I sorted through the stack of bills and junk mail. My reaction was always the same when the mail arrived. I always wished, actually yearned, for just once be a letter addressed to me. I hated that I repeatedly go my hopes up, but I did anyway.

But this time, I found what I was looking for. There at the bottom of the pile was a small envelope. Pulling it out, my heart stuttered at the sight of my name written in a familiar, sloping hand. Funny how just the sight of his handwriting had the power to shred my guts.

Standing there, with snow up to my ankles, I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to rip the letter to pieces, frightened by the crippling pain that would inevitably accompany his words. But that was such a small part of the hurricane of emotions I was feeling that I hastily shoved it away. Of course I would read it. I had to. I felt compelled to, never mind the emotional wreckage it could create. It wasn't really even an option. I most definitely would read it. Just not right now.

I folded up the letter and put it in my jean pocket and went about the rest of my day, even as the envelope weighed me down like a stone around my neck.

I spent the rest of the morning channel surfing, enjoying the snow day. Rachel and Daniel trekked over in the afternoon and Rachel insisted on giving me a hair cut. Normally I wouldn't let scissors anywhere near me, but with Clay's words deep in my pocket, I felt a sudden overwhelming need for change. Daniel flopped down on my bed and leafed through a magazine as Rachel snipped and layered and snipped some more. “I can't believe you read this junk.” Daniel snorted. Rachel held my head straight as I tried to see the article he was reading on how to get a boy to notice you. “If you don't want to have to buzz your head later, hold still.” I immediately sat up straight.

When Rachel was finished she held up a mirror. “So, whatcha think?” She asked. I turned my head side to side and grinned. She had done an awesome job. My normally long brown hair had been chopped off above my shoulders. Rachel had given me chunky layers around my face and it looked amazingly sleek and stylish. I fluffed it. “You have a gift, my friend.” I complimented, very pleased with the end result. Daniel looked up and gave me a low whistle. “You look hot, Mags.” Rachel and I grinned.

“So Maggie...” Daniel began. I was instantly suspicious, because he never used my full name. I looked at him archly. “Yes.” I prompted. “I was talking to Jake Fitzpatrick the other day and he was asking about you.” I looked away from my best friend. I knew he was trying to be helpful, wanting me to move on with my life. Attempting to re-acclimate me to the life I had led before Clay had appeared in it. But Jake Fitzpatrick, actually any guy, didn't have a chance as long as Clay still held my heart.

“Don't think so, Danny.” I said lightly, trying to hide the misery the thought of dating other guys created. “Jake's hot. I mean, what would it hurt to go out on a date with him? We could all go together if that would make it easier. It's not as though you're cheating. I mean...you know, I don't think Clay's...ummm...well...you know.” Rachel didn't finish her thought, letting her sentence trail off into what became an awkward silence.