400 days of her
He was on page #399. He had to compose a few more words to put an end to his story. His story. #400, it’d end on.
Then, he picked up a note; to cross his heart one final time.
When I began to write, I was excited. I would, for the first time to myself, get to closure. I resisted this narrative. But I was so torn from inside that nothing could fix me. Except this.
It began like a dream. I pinched myself to see it real. There were smiles and laughs and love and hope. Nothing changed.
One day, she walked out. I was oblivious to her world. I failed. To keep up with love.
I waited for her to come back.
I waited for days; a little more than thirteen months.
On the 400th day, I gave up.
It ended there.