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.
