Meaning: Emptiness, frigidity


He opened the door with a shaky breath, and in an instant the memories came rushing back to him. Every corner, every crevice, engraved into his mind like the back of his hand.

He shook his head. He was just here to grab his things.

Her scent covered the walls of the room. He couldn't hear anything but her laugh in the back of his mind, muddled and faded yet no less beautiful. So many cold, brutal nights spent in the comfort of her warm grasp.

She came in yesterday to grab her things. She was thorough, left nothing behind. The only clothes still in her closet were his own, the only things still littering the floor were discarded gadgets he'd forgotten about. He tossed them all into the box.

But she did leave one other thing on the nightstand, probably on purpose. It was his, after all. He picked up the photograph and traced his fingers over her image.

She bought it for him as a gift, but he left it in her room. He wanted to keep it where he knew he would always be able to find it. Her arms were around his neck and her chin was resting on top of his black hair. They were smiling.

A single tear rolled down his cheek and dropped onto the photo. He tossed it into the box and wiped his eyes dry.

If only things could've worked out differently. If only she didn't have to leave.

He picked up the box and walked towards the exit. It was her choice. She wanted change, she wanted to grow. She had a new purpose, and it wasn't with him.

He took one final glance back at the room. Stripped of the love that once echoed through its walls. An empty, barren husk, a shell of what it used to be.

"I would've been anything for you."

Dick shut the door.