NOTHING ─ r black.

09

Going through your things felt like torture.

It hurt me to see the absurd little things you had without you there to tell me the meanings behind them ─ why you kept them.

It hurt me that you were gone but parts of you were still here. It hurt me that you were gone but the memories weren't.

It wasn't fair.

If you were here, I knew exactly what you'd say. But it pained me to even think about it ─ about the words I loved so much.

Beside your bed, as always, lied a black leather-bound book. Your initials R.A.B. engraved in gold on the bottom.

The book you told me to read.
Somehow I couldn't bring myself to.

Because it would mean the last part of you was gone.
And I don't think I could've handled that.