His dinosaurs started out lined up at the foot of her bunk, where she could see them. It didn't long for them to move to the head, instead, where she couldn't.
His shirts hang perfectly pressed and pristine.
It's in the nature of the galley for the fixtures to expand and contract with the crew, but somehow there's always an empty space at the table.
She spends a lot of her time in the cockpit, still, but these days she keeps the her eyes shut and the lights down low.
Nothing has ever felt so alien.