An Empty Room

The furnishings could not dissuade the emptiness that permeated the room. The early afternoon sunshine could not push away the blanket of darkness that loitered there.

Is this what I expected? Dormé asked herself. How should I have expected Loss to feel?

She picked the last holo-disc from the table beside Versé's bed. A projection of three smiling newborns appeared above her hand. Three children who will live their lives without hearing their mother's laughter, shouts of anger, or seeing her tears of joy. She turned the projection off and reverently placed it in a box with the rest of her friend's possessions.

Does our destiny, our very being, always end in a box? she mused, her eyes drifting to the container with the possessions Cordé kept close to her while on Coruscant, including a lock of her fiancé's hair. She examined the room again. Do we empty one box just to fill another?

She sat on the end of her own bed, her eyes downcast, hardly noticing the Naboo guardsmen who came and took the rest of Versé's and Cordé's clothes and possessions away.

"Dormé?"

The voice was soft, yet firm. She brought her head up, suddenly aware of the tears running down her cheeks. "Yes, Captain?"

Typho stepped forward, reached out, and with surprising tenderness, brushed away her tears. "You must be brave; for them and for the senator."

She stood and nodded. Service did not come without sacrifice. "And for the new ones?"

"The replacements are here," he confirmed, his voice still soft. "Remember, with bravery, there is no fear."

End