I stood on the rusted tracks, awaiting the absolute of goodbyes. That large and empty tunnel housed all my weathered dreams. There, I imagined the rush of the underground train, and a whirlwind of firsts. And then that perpetual echo in the distance, forever reminding me of our evanescence.
The dust settles on my feet and the world suddenly slows in its cycle.
Yet through it all, I withstand the tempest of these widowed days.