He keeps his head down the entire day, hands folded standing beside her coffin. Once a while, he takes a glance at the beautiful woman lying in the coffin and almost immediately, looks back at his shoes. He doesn't want to remember her like that; instead, he wishes to remember the times when they were both together and happy. 
There's a soft, comforting pat on his shoulder but he doesn't look up at all. It was probably just another person paying respects, showering him with pity. 
Pity. The word made him sneer in distaste. Eyes filled with sad looks and small, awkward smiles directed towards him filled him with irritation. He wanted to glare and lift them by their collars with one hand, push them against the wall and hiss them a warning about never looking at him with so much pity ever again. But he couldn't, so the only thing he could do was to pretend not to hear them and look away.
"It's okay, I know how it feels like." But they didn't, not even a little. 
"Don't worry, you'll get over it soon." They didn't understand that getting over your loved one's death was as hard as swimming in a volcano and coming out unburnt.
"Smile. Don't look so down, there's still more in the world for you to see." They didn't know that everything left in the world for him to see didn't matter at all, not when she wasn't around to experience them with him.  
They were so, so wrong. And most importantly, it wasn't ing okay.
He feels suffocated all of a sudden-the tie around his neck suddenly too tight and people around him talking in too-loud voices. He needed to get away, and that's what he did.

The apartment seemed so empty. He takes a cautious step onto the shining marble floors and look around. His eyes travel to her precious flowers that are arranged neatly in a vase placed next to the window. The leaves were drooping, he notes, and makes a point to water the plant later on.