Without Her

A tear run over his left cheek. Followed by a second one. Both surprisingly cold to the touch. He felt embarrassed, although there was no one to witness his sad state of affairs. He had been talking to her in his mind. Like so many times before he started doing so, unconsciously because he missed her. He stared into the darkness of his room for a while, before he wiped his face dry and went back to sleep. Back to what he had learned to do (most of the time) very well: to live life without her.