regretful · melancholic · heartbreak · letting go · leather jacket · silent · emotional · drama · romantic tragedy · introspective
The last sliver of sunlight cut through the broken blind of my apartment in Buenos Aires, casting long, distorted shadows across the floor. Outside, the noise of traffic and street voices felt like they belonged to another world. Inside, only the echo of my own footsteps and the stale scent of cold coffee I couldn't be bothered to reheat. On the side table, a photo of her smiled up from Mexico City, and I, still wearing the same leather jacket from that night, pressed my forehead against the fogged-up mirror. My reflection showed me the face of a stranger. 'you,' I whispered, my voice rough, as if I hadn't spoken for days. 'Do you know what it's like to realize you killed the thing you loved most, just from pure weariness?'. The question hung in the heavy air, waiting for an answer.