the End.

She.

That's all I can write after what happened last night. Words have no meaning anymore. I can't write French. That part of me is long gone.

It all started with the end. That's usually how it is. She finished her sentence and through her lips I could hear her silence. She was waiting for something I just could not give her. Her smile burnt my eyes and rendered me blind. She was too much, and I was no one.

So I ran. Without turning back.