She stood at the window. She stood at the window every day since he left.
The threads that tied them were still strong. He still loved her and so he would return to her. Then they could rest.
Her body had withered long ago, her bones turned to dust. The houses around theirs had crumbled and gone, the residents forced out by her initial rage. She'd moved the landscape up around their house, it reflected her mood now...her need to be alone and wait.
She kept their house the same, untouched by the ravages of time. The same so that he would recognise it when he returned. Not that it mattered, all he need do was feel along the thread. He knew it was there, he'd plucked at it more than once tugging at the hope where her heart once beat.
So she stood at the window and she waited for him to return. She would wait forever and they would never rest.