'I wish this were a dream', they said. Oftentimes when the day was drawing to an end they would sit and ponder all the wrongs in their life. John took a sip of whiskey.
They sat alone, quiet and sad. 'Why?' they whispered, 'Why is it like this?'.
They were once happy; an era of quintessence. They once had love, but now that was a tainted memory fleeing their worldly existence. John had her and now she was gone. John took another sip of whiskey.
Maybe it was better this way, they thought, sitting in the evening breeze. Perhaps now she was gone it would all begin to make sense. They did not want to think about her anymore; their heart would break again each time.
Their vision became hazy, picturing her in their mind, and a tear fell away to become enveloped by the world's cold embrace. They did not want to think of her anymore.
As the sun was finally setting, and the world was moving as it always did, John took their last sip of whiskey.
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