Silent Apartment

There he stood outside of the apartment where he once spent most of his days. He could no longer find it within himself to step in. Not enough time had passed.

The world passed him by. It never seemed to wait for him and he hated it. “Even for a moment,” he thought to himself, “even for a moment, you won’t pause. Not even for this…”

It was all the same to him either way: a part of him wished that the time would pass by quicker; that he would be able to forget. He had experienced too much and the agony was overwhelming him.

He heard a sound and quickly glanced down the hallway.

He could have sworn that he just saw her. There she stood. Right there at the end of the hallway.

His cheeks began to stain with tears. He didn’t know how to control it. He missed her so much. The memories that flooded his mind at the thought of her were overwhelming, and every attempt he made at striking her from his thoughts were met with vain.

“I might as well,” he said as he turned the key to unlock the apartment.

As he entered, he could feel the change. Her presence was gone. The sweet perfume no longer lingered. It was as if she had never been there. He walked over to the counter. “Mail,” he thought. “The damn mail never stops coming.”

The mail was strewn across the counter. It seemed as if the maid had come earlier that day and picked it up from the floor. He saw the note she left: “I saw what happened on the news. I’m really sorry. Please let me know if you need anything.”

He hated receiving these messages from people that he knew. Everyone was sending him messages of encouragement, and none of it was helping. People were failing to realize that what he needed was her, not their words. Their words were meaningless. He would trade all of their words for her. In fact, deep down, he knew that he would be just as willing to trade all of them for her.

(To be continued.)

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