She had left holes in his life, big gaping holes that tugged at the edges of things and unravelled them. Strings and strands of memory and emotion, drawn into a swirling vortex that gave nothing back. The spaces on the hallway wall, where happy eyes had been, stared disapprovingly at him when he came home of an evening, chill wind ushering him through the door and whipping his coattails around his legs so the wet fabric stuck to him and sent ice creeping under his skin to reach fingers to the marrow of his bones.