Mary was happy. She had a nice job, and a nice husband, and a nice life. She found joy in keeping plants around her house, and researching astrology, those were her hobbies. She held a job at an insurance firm, where she was payed a good wage. Mary was happy.
Except for how her heart wrenched in her chest whenever she saw bright red hair in the office. Or when her husband bought her a bouquet of Lilies and she couldn't help but to burst into tears. Or when she saw shaggy black dogs and a part of her ached. Or when her hairdresser wore snake cuffs in her long braids and she had to cancel her appointment. Or when she went to the pub and the bartender had a shaggy blonde bob that made her go to the loo and heave before she'd had a drop. Or when her doctor came in with round glasses and she got a headache. Or when she came across a scarred face and nearly cried. Or when the cashier at the shop looked into her eyes with those bright green eyes and she had to put her items back. Or when a freckle faced girl complemented her outfit and she had to rush home to change before she could cry.
Mary was happy. But she was haunted by ghosts in her house with the white picket fence. She felt the ghost of a hand on her cheek when her husband kissed her in the mornings. She would wake up and go to get tea that was never made, that she had never asked her husband to make, that a lost part of her expected anyway. A ghost of laughter in her ear whenever she listened to ABBA.The ghosts of a lost life she couldn't remember.
Mary was happy. She definitely should be happy. But she wasn't really. Her heart ached and deep parts of her soul were broken. But she couldn't place why. Besides she had no reason to be unhappy.
Mary was happy. She had a decent husband, a decent job, a decent life. She had hobbies she liked for reasons she didn't know. And sure she had odd feelings every once in a while. But. Well. She was fine. She was happy.