I cross the streets and take two seconds to look up at the sky, full of stars and looking quite beautiful. Walking into the lobby, I feel blinded by the light, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

His apartment is locked. With a face of confusion, I step into the elevator and push floor 1 on the keypad. I walk up to the pretty blonde girl behind the desk. She looks up from her phone to smile at me.

"Has anyone recently been to apartment B7?"

"Yeah.. I think his mother came by and picked up some of his items.."

I nod and quietly reply, "thanks"

"I'm sorry for your loss. Have a nice night!" she beams.

Have a nice night?! Yeah because losing the love of your life comes with immediate postivity..

I hope his mother didn't take his sketches.. I enter my apartment building, feeling safe but not quite. I am not safe from the evil realities of love and loss just yet. Will I ever be?

I plop onto a couch in the lobby. I sit there, my legs draped over the armrest, and let the tears fall, not even caring anymore. I stare at the popcorn ceiling, feeling myself slip away.

I don't remember it but I eventually fell asleep because I awake on that couch, dawn light pouring in from the window. I think of Alfie, the metaphorical sunshine in my life.

Days pass, all feeling the same. I feel detached from the world around me. I just float further away from everything and all of my color has faded within me.

**One week after Alfie slipped away.. For good.**

I don't eat much and I feel like sleeping every second to take the pain away, to forget.

Today was the first day we got snow. Less than an inch fell but it's enough to make me wear a sweater and drink hot coffee.

Coffee.
Alfie.
His greeting.
Hi. My name's Alfie and I enjoy the stars and coffee.

I fight this dreadful feeling as that first day crashes into my thoughts like an ocean wave. His voice echoes through my head and I lose myself in memories. I let a few tears fall, curling up into the couch, my eyes roaming over the fairy lights.

I hear a knock at my door. Getting up, I answer it, hoping I look okay but not actually caring.

It's Alfie's mum. She hugs me and steps into my apartment, handing me a bouqet of flowers and some chocolate candy.

"Thank you! These are lovely.. Would you like some coffee?"

"No thanks." she smiles politely but it's obviously fake. She zones out at the floor and I join her on the couch.

"I'm sorry" I say, hugging her.

"It's so hard" she sobs and doesn't let go of our embrace.

"I know, I know."

We talk and avoid the subject of Alfie. She later leaves and I feel exhausted from social interaction and having to make my mind work a conversation.

**One week later**
The snow hasn't come back, it sort of all melted pretty quickly.

I don't remember what Alfie's voice sounded like. I remember the way his touch felt, though. I remember his eyes, too.

I've been looking through his sketches and today, I'm creating a picture wall in my bedroom from his notebook sketches. I stop halfway through to cry but I regain control over my emotions enough to continue.

Once finished, I take a picture of the pictures (ironic, I know) and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

How did it get this bad? What if I feel like this my whole life? What if I'll never escape?

**3 days later**

I called Alfie just to hear his voicemail.

Today was okay.

I went to the grocery store and as I was buying bread, a woman looked at me with a sympathetic face, probably concerned because of my ghostly white appearance and the bags under my eyes. She quickly slapped the expression from her face to smile at me like nothing happened but I saw it.

That's the thing with people- we trick ourselves into believing we can outsmart someone and they're dumb enough to believe it. Wanna sneak out and go to that Halloween party? As a human, you'll get reckless, thinking your parents aren't smart enough to find out. Even back to the woman in the store, all it took was 3 seconds of a look that wasn't normal procedure and she changed her face like I wasn't smart enough to pick up on it. But I saw it. And perhaps I'm overthinking.