and there he stood. with a gun in his hand, a cup in front of him, a cup with a note in it, an empty cup.
i watched him as he stood there. hopeless, lost, and angry. i watched silently from my window, my curtain pulled back slightly to watch him, the sleeves of my black sweater pulled, my eyes red and swollen from crying.
i watched him rage and roar. i watched him as he threw empty cups around.
i watched him destroy himself almost everyday. i watched from my window silently and he would never notice.
i always wondered why he did this. why he contemplated suicide, why he would place his death notes in empty cups on his nightstand and stare at them every night.
i watched and i wondered.
every morning he would check the mail and greet me with a smile, a heart warming smile. no one would ever be able to guess that he was depressed & hurt. that he placed his suicide notes in empty cups.
but i did.
YOU ARE READING
Empty Cups
Short Storyeveryday she watched him destroy himself. everyday she saw him tear apart on the outside from her window sill. she saw him toss around empty cups and place death suicide notes in them. he never see's her. until now. |credits for cover: @Londonstars...
