As the smoke flowed gracefully through my tongue for a minute, I don’t want to think about her. As I let out the smoke go and share the weightless absence of her scent in my room, the pang of grief found its way to terminate my lungs and bite the only sign that could tell the universe, I’m still here — breathing while trying to dodge the mirror that shows the man she once held closer to her colourful world; only it was shattered by the same person who is now in the middle of torturing his lungs; killing his soul. And I badly want to go where she is, because my mind wants, my heart needs to see her now as the flashbacks started to shove me hard to the chair she once occupied while she is staring at me broken and obviously unhappy. There, I felt helpless for the first time as I reassured her it’ll all be okay, I want her now to be happy. Even if happy means – somewhere else, someone else not me.