Shadows decorated the walls, replacing a picture in the room we used to share. Loneliness caressed the darkness with a jilted, tainted Polo perfume she used to wear around her neck. The needle and the damage done to the wall, which her fist pounded through, missing my face, fixed my eyes on a dead letter returned to sender. The broken window still had traces of her blood from her clenched fist. The creak upon which my feet stood broke the trance — I’d raced through thoughts, wondering if changes could have been made.
Drink Coffee Write 