She tugs at the top drawer. It has stuck again in the heat. One more hefty yank and it gives, punching her in the chest. She rifles about through her things. There are some old socks, a wallet and right at the back, the digital camera her husband bought the week before he died. She flicks it on, desperately seeking a reminder, a glimmer of what life used to be like; something to fill the void his death has created. But there is nothing. Nothing at all. No flickering image of his beautiful face. No reminders of how life once was. The screen is nothing but a dark empty space. And it makes her weep.