The afternoons: grey and overwhelming as they diffuse into another night. Another night of empty rooms and empty solace. Haunted by memory. The times I smiled—with you. Always with you.

Frustrated at my clumsiness, you laughed. I fumbled to reach for you. The pose you struck in the photograph is etched into my mind indelibly. I remember you. I remember your scent on my pillow. I remember lingering kisses, your spoken smoke mixed with my cologne.

I’m adrift. Aimless in empty rooms. The happiness I felt then seems worth it, though. It’s really just a fleeting emotion anyway. Of course, I’m grateful. I often wonder what you do with the time given to you. Are you still happy? Is someone making you happy? I hope so.