It was a mistake leaving Rebecca, Michael realized. There were no more cutesy notes in his brown-bag lunches, nor feet curled in his lap over breakfast. It was the small things he missed most.
He still remembered how she took her coffee (with milk and too much sugar), how she smiled (tentative and bracketed by dimples), how she laughed (an unladylike snort, no matter how hard she tried to mask it). Memories would overwhelm him as he was walking down the street, hands in his pockets.
And he saw her. With someone new. And a dog.
His heart sank.