sunday: april 26th

he knew it was time, he could see the rays hitting the other side of his room from where he was lying down. he closes his laptop and sets aside his blanket, picks the cigarettes and the lighter from the desk, on the way out the door. he runs his fingers through the body of the lighter, it still had her name engraved on it, it never wore off. the earphones tangle and mess with the door handle, but this doesn't annoy him. he's made peace with the little annoyances that life throws at him. 

walking up the stairs slowly he leaves a text to her: "heading up, I'll be back down in an hour"
he knew she wouldn't see the text, but it felt familiar. it was less painful to pretend and somehow more painful at the same time. he's made his way to the terrace, he stands next to the railing and takes a picture of the sunset. sends it to her along with the date and time: 18:33 26th April, 2020

he orders burgers and fries from his usual place, at this point he doesn't even need to call them up to order. they just know. it's been a constant for more than a year now. he lies down on the terrace floor, looks at the light being stripped away from the sky. 'it's the moon's turn now', he whispers to himself, while he takes out a cigarette and lights it. 

his music taste is impeccable, makes you cry sad, makes you cry happy, makes you want to be with someone, he's beautiful. he's 21 and he's retired from life already, her death got to him. his parents had left him with a pile of never ending fortunes, and then she left. he never needed to work again, he never could work again. her death is the single-handedly the event that destroyed him. but he's happy, in a way. 
the engraving on the lighter reminds him of her touch, her annoying laugh, her voice. it all comes back in flashes, and he lets out tears, every day, at sunset. he likes to believe it's his tears that light up the stars every night. so he lies down, to watch the birth of the stars over and over to see some version of his sister again. he'd do anything for that. 
the hour is ending in five, he lights another cigarette, plays the saddest songs in his playlist, and reads her last text again: "i love you, i hope you find peace like i did." 

his immense understanding of the world, literature, emotions nor his piles of cash, or anything he thought was valuable will ever help him understand what she meant in those last moments before she did what she did. 

he climbs back into his blanket.

"A million feelings. A thousand thoughts. A hundred memories. All for one person."
- Tumblr

hey, 
I hope you are doing well, I was attempting a spin-off of the vaguest series of a combination of words I've ever written called 'a depressed kid', which you can find in my Tumblr. I hope you didn't find this annoyingly vague and overly descriptive. My aim was to try and create an open-minded scenario which then you'd allow to fill in gaps and visualise yourself. I may or may not be able to promise you less vague content. 
also, today the sunset was actually exactly at 18:33, so haha.