V.

She took a last sip from her cup, and realized how the coffee had gone cold already.

There she was, thinking again.

A year ago, she was there too, listening to that sole list of songs she listened to for a year — she knew every single sound those songs made and she laughed at how her heart had good memory for such stuff — songs, stories, quotes — many of them sad, most of them melancholic.

Today, all she did was wonder how he was.

She marveled at how uncanny he came and left — either way she was swept off her feet. Enigmatic she calls it, and her heart never ceased to remember.

Of course she wished he’d come back. Though he never really promised he would. All she knew was how he ought to find himself first, and she’d be really happy if he did.

Then…