She gave him a letter. a letter made of paper so brown it matched the ground under his feet. He opened the envelope, inside was a folded piece of grey paper. Grey like her stormy grey eyes. He took the paper out and unfolded it.
He took a deep breath and started reading, there was only one line, “it was my decision”. And that was it. He had never felt more betrayed in his life. she left him on the day that seemed to plunge him into a darkness like night. He sat down on the stairs across him and stared at the ground. Heart pounding but his mind was blank. just nothingness, a spark of pain in his mind spread to become a fire in his body. Now breathing heavily, still staring at the ground. Maybe the dirt would’ve loved him better. After all he grew up in it.
Oh why? he thought. why, why, why. The word swam in circles in his mind. Flowers the color of her Sunday dresses lay a couple meters in front of him. Already wilting or maybe it was his own eyes that made them wilt. WHY. Why me?…he thought again. He loved her. He loved her so much it hurt then and it hurts worse now. ‘How come i let myself get so scarred like this?’ he thought, each word a sting as it surfaced from the ocean in his mind. He remembered last year, how they had told each other of their dreams, of their limits, their past loves and stories that spiraled from their childhood on wards. That night he promised himself to her and she accepted.
That night was a night of fantasy now. He sat there for hours, people walked past, some passing a glance at him, some too obscured by their own work to care and some, too familiar with the wisdom of life to help.
Maybe they knew what came after this heartbreak, maybe he should ask. What is after this? what comes after this pain?
A small and petite voice in the deep void of his head said. Barely audible but enough to slip through the cracks. He raised his head. Hands on his knees, hands that held her so firmly, never let go they said once, now they say, why did you let go.
Tears made from the river of remembrance that he is now came, forming streams on his face.
“Strength, from where?”
No voice petite answered back. He stood up. Picked up the flowers and walked.
He threw the flowers into the nearest trash can, no anger in his movements. just affliction.
An Affliction of love.