Ashes

I’m waiting.

The sunsets are my favorite time of the day. It’s beautiful how their rays pass through the windows, down to my hand-made carpet.

I adjust my chair, facing the tall window with a breathtaking view of the nature and sunset. I sit, cross-legged, and my hands clasp each other in front of me. I take a deep breath and catch his musky scent.

Looking closely at the window, I can see myself. My once long, brown hair has turned to short, curly gray hair. My skin has creased, my eyes look defeated and my body seems skinny. I look away.

I’m beautiful. Maybe I want to make myself believe I’m still beautiful. Maybe that’s the reason he left me. I’m no longer beautiful.

I look at the table beside the window. Our picture is lovely. Both smiles are on with sparks in our eyes. Beside the picture is a jar with lots of ash. Ashes of a dead person.

I huff before continuing to watch the sun set. It’s not wrong, and will never be, to wait for someone who’s already dead. I flinch at the thought, but no, it’s not wrong.

So I’m still waiting, hoping for the impossible. 

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