listen to one story

I stand quietly in his office, staring at his tidy desk and that empty chair. All the paper work are my now my duty to fulfill. But I don’t feel like doing it now. In fact, I don’t want to do anything right now. My thoughts are full of him. He disappeared a week ago. Search parties have been dispatched, but we haven’t found any clue yet. Some people assumed the worst possibility, but I desperately hope that he’s somehow still alive.

I look a short while outside the large window on the west side. I can see some cherry tree branches. They look dead moved by the freezing winter wind helplessly. Have I become numb? I can’t feel anything, neither pain nor sadness. I just know that the air has grew heavier and heavier. It’s so heavy it’s hard to breath. I don’t know what to do. I want to cry but I can’t.

I look around the neat bookshelves. Nothing catches my attention, so I move to his table and take the papers with me. Unwillingly, I walk toward the door. I stop and once again contemplate at the lonely chair. I realize it’s not the fact that I never told him about my feelings that burden me. I never intended to. For me, working side by side with him was more than enough. But now, I’d do anything to make sure he’s alright and save. But who am I to doubt him, thinking that he can’t finish what he’s started.

I grab the doorknob and slowly walk away. I’d be brokenhearted if he’s never coming back

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