He doesn't think of her.
He doesn't wonder what she's doing when he's supposed to be watching the road. He doesn't smell her on his clothes anymore, or listen for traces of her voice through a static-filled phone. He doesn't stare into a coffee cup, wondering why he still can't warm up from the cold.
He wanders, and never looks back. He doesn't see her in the wide rolling hills, their snow-capped peaks.
He doesn't hear the sharp breath she took, every time he sinks his claws into someone else.
He is not that man, nor will he ever be.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Originally written for the x_men100 Beta drabble set (prompt was "Claws").