I have a book of story prompts to use when my mind is stuck. I think this one turned out pretty good, but it doesn't give a proper pronoun to the person talking in the story. I just kind of figured it sounded like something from a male perspective talking about a female. The "she" that's being referred to I'm picturing as this guys wife or g/f.

(Prompt) I didn't cry when she died, or at the funeral, or at the reception. It wasn't until the next morning when I went into the pantry and saw row upon row of canned vegetables, fruits and jams she had prepared for the long winter ahead. The shelves were filled with...

(continuation) memories of her; and I finally couldn't control it any longer. I felt my eyes begin to burn and my face flush. My vision became blurry and a lump quickly formed in my throat. I didn't want to break down. I wanted to be strong for her but if it had to happen at least I'm alone.no swallowed hard a couple times willing the lump to disappear but it was useless. My vision was now so blurry I could barely make out what I was looking at. I couldn't believe I was about to break down. Just then I felt something tickly my cheek. Bringing my hand up to scratch I realized it was a tear. I had not clue how it escaped but it was already halfway down my left cheek. I quickly turned my hand over and wiped the tear away with the back of my hand. I vowed I wasn't going to let grief consume me; but before I could turn to walk away I felt another tear escape. This time it was rolling down my right cheek. I took a deep ragged breath trying to regain some composure but the more I struggled the heavier it felt. My body ached from fighting my emotions. So finally my body gave way and I slowly slumped to the floor. I was not sitting in the pantry on the floor too exhaust to move. As exhausted as I was that didn't stop more tears from springing to my eyes and inevitably rolling down the same paths on my cheeks as the previous ones. I could feel my chest tighten and I took a slow ragged breath to try to ease my pain, but as I was letting my breath out I let out a hitched "W-w-why?" almost beyond my control. It was very soft at first but grew gradually louder with every breath I let out until I was finally screaming. In don't know if I was more sad or angry at this point but I figured it was useless to try to fight it anymore. I let my head fall onto the lowest shelf where my forehead pressed firmly against the wood. Before I could stop myself my fists began pounding on the shelf. With that my screams finally started dying down as I was losing the ability to make any more sounds. I then let my shoulders fall fists still pounding furiously into the shelf. I got to the point that after a couple min I had formed a giant wet spot (of tears) on the shelf. I could feel the cool, sticky tears smeared all over the shelf and now my face. I finally lowered my fists as my hands were beginning to get sore fronm all the pounding. I then lifted up my head more embarrassed than anything. As I blushed in embarrassment from seeing my tears I quickly raised my right hand and wiped every trace of tears from the shelf with the palm of my hand ; then wiped my hand palm side down on my pants. I then forced myself to stand up leaning my hands heavily on the shelf for support. I knew I needed to make it to the sink to wash my remaining traces of tears from my face, but at that exact moment I just didn't n think I had it in me.