After hours being at the court, he carries himself back to his car. Sitting, his sweats drip from all over his body, including from both of his eyes. Without another person's hand to be held on, his hands grasp on each other and placed on top of the sterling wheel. As the sweating heavies, he rests his forehead on his fists...
The breathing becomes heavier and heavier. Uncontrollably, it turns into nausea and its sound is the only thing that breaks the silence inside his car.
As time passes, he slowly lifts his head and lays on the headrest. The street lights which supposed to have fixed shapes becomes distorted and the reflection on the window becomes his only passenger. Still, he removes the passenger from his seat...
There, with the opened window, he receives comforts from the wind that follows behind every passing vehicles. Every touches that he receives becomes colder and colder. He is all alone; it's so cold but there's no one whom he could borrow the warmth from.
He knows that he is responsible for loosing the warmth blessed upon him. He understands that it has already became a fact. Even when he still carries the hope and making the prayers, he does notice that these actions will bring nothing. It is painful to hold on to whatever he is gripping now. But the rose is the only thing left that could relate him to her...
He still hopes for her return. He still pushing himself to improve.
He still misses her. He still loves her.
Then again, he knows he needs to move on, as she might has already did so. One day, she will be in the arms of other and he might feels his cuts bleed again. Regardless, it is out of his power and it could only be dealt with when it does really happen...
For now, he will leave the place with her hair clips within his palm. It will leave a mark or even draw blood. However, in time, the pain will either be healed or sunk into the depth... What happens next, is beyond control and prediction.
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