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You head to the kitchen, feeling exhausted already, and decide to cook a meal. 

It doesn't come as a surprise when you accidentally make portions for two people. 

I see you grasping the spatula with a strong, tight grip, as if you are about to break it with your strength. I step forward, peeking at your face to see that you're biting your lip hard, clenching your eyes shut, trying not to break out into tears yet again.

My hands raise, wishing to comfort you with a calming back rub, but I cannot. 

You prepare the food, sitting alone at a table for two, and you barely eat. Tonight, we celebrate loneliness. 

Chan, I am sorry. I should not have taken my own life. 

Apologies From The Grave » bangchanWhere stories live. Discover now