It's a Tuesday, I know. Woke up to some cold breakfast waiting for me on the table. I slip on my shoes and open my front door. Whoosh! The air made a bee line up my nose. I sipped the cool air down my throat and headed out for the day.
The snow crunched softly beneath my feet. I'm glad there's snow - it deafens the sounds of everything. I tug at my scarf, just a little, to give me some room to breathe.
I think for a moment about my friends. How long has it been? Was it yesterday? I don't know.
I received news that the fog had not left. I made the worst decision, but it was a decision I still made. That day was also a Tuesday, yes.
I could not direct fate. I was gone.
My love was not real.
My friendship was not real.
But why am I here? Every single year?
Regret does a funny, funny thing to you.