It was as if the empty nights were made for thinking of him. And sometimes I found myself so vividly aware of him it was as if he had only just left the room and the ring of his voice were still there. And somehow, there was a disturbing comfort in that, and, despite myself, I'd envision his face.
The nights often felt endless, serving as a backdrop for deep thoughts about him. In those quiet moments, his presence lingered, making it seem like he had only just stepped away. The echo of his voice continued to resonate, creating a bittersweet solace that I couldn't quite shake off.
Despite the unease this brought, I found myself drawn to the memories, vividly picturing his face and reliving our moments together. It...
