Hey everybody. Can't be on long. Have sooooo much homework to do. Anyway...enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recongise.

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A picture of her is the first thing you see when you walk into his apartment.

It’s her in the lab. Her full lips turned up in a large smile that reached her sparkling brown eyes, her long brown hair tied up and the ends flicked up over the shoulder of her white lab coat.

CSI:NY

Aiden Burn

That’s the monogram on the breast pocket. He got her lab coat. It’s hung up in the back of his wardrobe, wrapped in plastic so it’ll smell like her for years to come.

A picture of the two of them. That’s the next thing you see. Stella got them to pose for it one night at Sullivan’s.

Her back’s to his chest. His arm’s wrapped around her waist. Her brown head’s under his chin, his blonde head’s on hers. They both started out pouting, than Flack said some shit and they both ended up laughing.

He missed laughing about anything with her. Even if he laughed at something she didn’t, she didn’t care.

Like the time they were at her place watching The Simpsons. He was in a foul mood, but laughed at every little joke. She didn’t comment on how stupid he must have sounded, just kept on holding his hand and eating popcorn.

He got a lot of her stuff when she died. She and him had ordered those will-kits one time. When they came, they sat down in the break room and filled it out.

She had listed him a lot in her will. He got some photos, some clothes, some jewelry (all of which were locked away in his wardrobe) some of her favourite books and CDs, he even got her cat Metball.

He had gotten her the scrawny little thing. That night they sat down eating some of her pasta while watching the Mets, and the kitten had jumped up on the couch and eaten a meatball right off her plate.

Every time they said the cats name they’d both laugh. People would think they were stupid, but they would simply reply, ‘It’s and in-joke.’

Every time he got home from work, he would stand in front of that picture of her. He would remember all the times he shared with her. All the times they’d flirted, all the times they’d fought…

He didn’t want to forget her. Didn’t want his memories of her to be squished and replaced by some blonde haired woman who was so different from her.

A picture of her is the first thing you see when you walk into his apartment.

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I know. It's rough. It's short. It's only a page. I just haven't written a short angsty story in ages.

Please, please, please review!

Ciao!