Suddenly, all the pent-up emotions he had held within came rushing down on Zeeke as he lay on his-couch at the exact same spot-for the eleventh time this week, tears crawled down from his face one by one. He was in deep, utter pain, like a man who had been shot and can't seem to go to sleep. he was worse than a junkie without their drugs. He was in an endless state of torment because he couldn't have her.

Her quick impulse lit up every room she had lay within. Zeeke still remembered every detail of her how her cherry chapstick tasted pressed onto his lips. How she'd make horrible, weird impressions of animal noises whenever a room fell too silent, how her perfume would take up the whole room every time they would snuggle.

its been almost a year since they'd broken up. a year of Zeeke pretending like he didn't care. he'd spent the last week sulking onto this couch. he was a grown man but he was pouting, grumbling, and crying like he was four. he-loved her and she was gone. Now all he had left were the bittersweet memories of what was, what could've been, and the sheer product of sweet solemn yearn.