Muted
After Buffy's funeral, Cordelia spent a week wearing black. Her footsteps were subdued and her voice was soft, as if even talking would be disrespectful. She would work long hours during the day and would spend long hours during the night with Wesley. In the dim light of her living room, they would share bottles, talking about the past in hushed tones. She told him of the years before he arrived in Sunnydale, and he told her of his life in England, and, together, they told each other of Los Angeles.
They spent one night recalling her graduation. As the birds began to chirp outside and the paper landed on her front porch with a thump, she moved to his end of the couch, carefully removed his glasses, and kissed him -- a slow and tender kiss marred only by the soft shuddering of Cordelia's body as she began to sob, finally grieving for the girl she had known and the girl she had been.
That morning, she appeared at work dressed in bright blue, her platform sandals echoing on the marble floor. She walked into her office, put a pop CD on at full blast, and got to work.