They never felt as alone as in each other's company.

Each other's company was

the thing they dreaded the most. They thought about each other, in a certain way.
She thought he couldn't live without her. He thought, deep inside, the same. He
buried himself in his thoughts, until he couldn't recognize himself. He was lost,
but she, too, couldn't be found. As they gazed into each other's eyes, they thought
about all the good times, before all of it. Before the separation, the trial, the
impending divorce. They thought too much about everything. They thought too
much about each other. Did he love her, he asked himself. She answered yes, with
no request. Why then, he pondered, were they there? She had no answer this
time. Her broken heart, perhaps, she thought. He didn't know he broke her heart.
She didn't know it either. No one really knew anything. They stared into each
other's eyes. They knew. But what was it they knew? They definitely didn't know.
It seemed as if they didn't know anything. How could they fix this? That was the
only question that mattered and the only one left unanswered. How could them?
They asked themselves, but no one answered. They doubted there was a God, but
they thought it silly to doubt that. All their thoughts rushed through their minds.
Had she fed the dog? He knew she had. They noticed they repeat a lot of words,
the same ones. Habit? Maybe. But what wasn't? Too many question marks. Fuck.
They didn't know who said that, or if they both did. He got up. She did too. They
shook hands. It was done. They never thought about it again. They thought about
it all the time.