“She has been here with a couple of friends and has taken some stuff, just sayin'”
Oh, that hurts like a knife, twisted in my chest. I can’t breathe, and my pulse jumps up as if I had just run a marathon.
I knew she would need some cloth at some point, she was barely wearing a tiny short and a top, and temperatures were dropping.
I was supposed to take her shopping this week, make sure she was proper clothed when the tropic waves that had graced Berlin last week were pushed aside but temperatures below 20° C.
Walking up the stairs my pulse starts raising, my heart beating in my chest as if it would want to jump out and sprint forward to be the first to see the extent of the emptiness she might have left in our room.
There is nothing left. Everything of you is gone, as if you’d have never been here at all…
“Uff, just came home to our empty room…” is the last thing I’m able to text, before the darkness grabs my heart and draws me in the abyss of hurt and loneliness, a place that has proven itself difficult to leave for a many before me…