AND RED

Frustration swelled, choking me. Was I having a heart attack? My pulse thundered in my ears as I leaned against the wall, struggling to catch my breath.

Defeated, I turned away and trudged toward my own door, my phone still in my hand, trembling as I repeatedly tried her number. That's when I saw it—a flash of red, stark against the dull wood of the shoe cabinet. A sticky note, small and square, waiting for me like a silent messenger.

My hands trembled as I reached for it, my fingers brushing against the paper as if it might shatter under my touch. I turned it over, the words blurring before my eyes.

Dear RED,

The sunset was beautiful, wasn't it? A fleeting masterpiece, swallowed by the horizon, yet every second of its brilliance felt worth the inevitable loss. 

Let us meet again in the fields of green, where the world breathes life into everything that fades.

RED, you are the color of my longing—the hue that stains my soul and fills my emptiness with a quiet ache.

Until our next eclipse,

Solinka,

"Solin! Finally…you leave me! Solin, I can't even…hold my tears no matter how hard I have prepared,..."

I can hardly fathom that such a profoundly tender love letter marks the final chapter between us.

Her voice echoes in the void, a ghost of warmth in the cold chasm of my existence. Without her, I am hollow, a shadow wandering through a nightmare masquerading as life. My world is a coma—a perpetual haze of numbness—while she is the fleeting moment of clarity, a glimpse of reality that slips further away with each passing second.

I am not surviving. I am not living. I am simply fading, as if the threads of my being unravel with her absence.

As the sun dips beneath the horizon, I stand alone in the middle of the long, portrait-lined corridor, bathed in the soft glow of the coming night.

My eyes trace the edge of the empty passage, the one that once belonged to her. This should be the moment when she stands there, gracefully holding her glass of wine, her elegant dress cascading around her, her perfume lingering in the air like a balm for my soul.

In her presence, I was alive—every breath felt full, every heartbeat resonated with the joy of simply being. But now, in her absence, it's as though my heart has slipped away, no longer tethered to my body. I am nothing but a shell, a hollow form, drifting without purpose or spirit.

She warned me, time and again, to never fall for her, yet I ignored her every word, consumed by the force of my own emotions.

Now, here I am, shattered beyond repair, my heart breaking into an endless cascade of fragments. The weight of this pain is unbearable, so overwhelming that I can't even summon the strength to move on.

One side of me whispers that it's time to move on, to start piecing my life back together, knowing full well the weight of the pain I'm carrying. But the other side pleads with me to stay—to hold on to the memories of us, of her, until the very end.

These memories, as sweet as they are, cut deep. They're the kind that make it nearly impossible to move forward, yet they're the only fragments of her I have left. Even the pain they bring feels precious—a bittersweet ache I wish I could hold onto forever.

She's embedded in my heart, intertwined with my soul, and nothing can tear her away. I can't bring myself to blame her; she's borne such a heavy burden, a life fraught with suffering, up to this point.

All I can do now is hope her choice was the right one, one that will gradually bring her peace. I hope, with all my being, that she didn't love me as deeply as I love her, so she won't feel the crushing anguish that's tearing me apart.

My dearest Solinka, I cry out in the quiet of my soul, whispering to God—may you find the happiness you truly deserve.

I can't even look at you like Mona Lisa anymore—Not with wonder, not with reverence. You were my masterpiece, my quiet enigma, but now your gaze haunts me, cold and distant, like a painting I can no longer touch.

You've become untouchable, not in the way art is sacred, but in the way it's lost. And I, I am the fool who keeps staring, trying to find what is no longer there. 

Finally, it was my moment to stand alone at the edge of the open corridor. The fading warmth of her presence lingered in the glass of wine I cradled, her touch still ghosting its rim. I sipped slowly, tasting the echoes of her laughter as the sunset painted the horizon in fiery hues.

The air was heavy with the kind of silence that wraps itself around you, not empty, but brimming with unspoken words and feelings too vast for sound. For the first time in a long while, I felt the weight and beauty of solitude.

Standing here, I begin to feel the weight of my own tangled emotions, each one pressing harder against the walls of my chest.

The wine in my hand whispers false comfort, trying to lull me into the illusion that every terrible thing—the heartbreak, the loss, the emptiness—is nothing more than a passing nightmare. As the sun sinks beyond the horizon, its fiery descent tells me that all the pain of today will burn away, and perhaps, tomorrow will rise anew, unburdened.

But the silence here, thick and heavy, is deliberate. I've woven it around myself like armor, shielding my fragile delusion from the outside world. I don't want anyone to interrupt this fragile lie I've constructed, this fleeting hope that sustains me.

Yet even with all the wine, the sunsets, and the silence, the truth gnaws at me—I'm running out of time. I can't keep waiting.

Still, my heart aches for her return. If she came back, even for a moment, I'd finally ask, "Is this what you felt every time you stood here? Drinking wine, drowning in silence, watching the sky as if it held answers?"

But the question remains trapped in the air, just like me, waiting endlessly. The mist grows thicker, swallowing the horizon, and with it, the faint hope of her return. The wait feels futile, a cruel game played against reason. But I can't let go.

So, I stay rooted in this spot, the ache of waiting becoming as much a part of me as the breath in my lungs. I wait, not knowing if she'll ever come back—until…

Until our next eclipse!!!