thirty.

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30.

His insomnia had only worsened. Laying awake in bed staring at the ceiling, but only seeing her.

Listening to music, but not hearing the the song.

Smiling but not feeling the corners of his lips lift.

His thoughts were far too loud.

One night he thought he was going crazy. He just needed silence.

He stumbled to the train tracks, whiskey bottle in his hand with dry eyes.

She was going to be his last mistake.

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