Inhale, exhale

It slid back in the early mornings. Tentacular wisps of lonely smoke that gently wrapped around his thoughts. Vivid recollections danced to life of how she passed.
She inhaled one last time and the world exhaled with her.

Everything froze, leaving only the sound of arhythmic heartbeats drumming a pace. The world stood still.
Except it didn’t. Nothing changed except that she was gone now. Nothing changes except everything which was just one thing. The world didn’t know or really care about this just like so very many tragedies had happened of which he was blissfully ignorant. Still, it wasn’t right. People ought to have known and stopped with their lives for some time.


The anger at people’s happiness wasn’t rational, but there it was. It smouldered, raged, smoked and burned low. It ended with despondent acceptance just like smug psychologists predicted.


since then he’d had staccato moments of joy interspersing an otherwise perpetual loneliness.


The world stayed exactly the same.
Everything had changed.
None of it made sense, nor would it ever.

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