The disheveled man didn’t hear the person come in. He was too lost in his own thoughts, replaying the same scene over and over again in his head. He could see her face perfectly, even though she was long gone now.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m so sorry.”
He heard footsteps coming closer and he quickly tried to stand up, but he was too drunk and ended up sprawling back onto the floor. The person came into view and he saw it was a woman. She looked down at him with pity in her eyes before walking away.
He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. He felt numb all over, like he was already dead. Maybe that would be better, he thought. Maybe then he could finally be at peace.
The woman came back a few minutes later with a blanket and a pillow. She tucked him in gently before leaving again.
He stared up at the ceiling, not really seeing anything. His mind was still reeling from what had happened. He had lost the only thing that mattered to him in the world and he didn’t know how to go on.
He eventually drifted off to sleep, but not before making a silent promise to himself.
I will find her. I will find her and I will make things right.