I felt sorry, I couldn't save him.

I had cherished him all my life, no matter what we had or what we could have, but I loved him. In my heart he was nonetheless alive, he yet held a place, and no one else would ever replenish it.

Sorrow. I was groping grief, I could've saved him. It was all my fault.

A part of me perished with him. And a part of me would always wait for him.

I had nothing left to live for.

Tears streamed down, I settled a hand over my mouth to suppress my sobs. I wished to scream, to scream my heart out. But...