Christi and I both feel we have failed.  There is an eerie feeling in the apartment, an unnatural silence.
It was yesterday morning Christi found her and called 911.  I woke an hour and a half later to a voice I did not recognize.  When I went into the front room, there was a Sheriff.  Even before he said "Oh, hey, how're you?  Coffee's ready." my first thought was "Oh ->-bleeped-<-."  While we were waiting for the homicide detective and the coroner to show up, the Sheriff asked us a few questions, which the homicide detective asked us again.  The coroner sealed off her room.
Through the entire day, I felt disconnected, as if I were looking through someone else's eyes.  The feeling of surrealism is still with me, and I am still continually on the verge of crying.  Lastly, the art of coherent thinking still hasn't returned to me, and I don't expect it to for a while.