he lost everything when he lost her.

things lost their color, his face became long and thin, skin gray. there were frown lines suddenly. he didn't look like himself.

there were no tears left to cry.

he'd look at photos of her and smile to himself, waiting to hear his own name from her lips,

but photos don't move, and photos do not speak.

but he still lived on.

in an empty house. a house too quiet.

he went crazy, in his own sensible way. he visited the graveyard. every saturday, there would be a bouquet of roses, left there until they wilted.

she had loved flowers nearly as much as she loved him.