It has been a week and you’re still lying on that morbid white bed that became a little bit yellowish with the several uses. There’s a breeze of chemical washing products mixed with roses in the hospital room number 458.
Suddenly, the door opened letting a frat brown haired boy entered. Calum let the impression that he hasn’t slept for a degage with the tiredness of his eyes. He walked to his other half, holding the bomb that wanted to explode inside him. He pulled up out of his -oh so- skinny jeans his phone and plugged the earphone on the body that used to be his healthy, normal girlfriend.
"We just recorded this song a while ago and I… I was waiting for the right moment to show you this song. I wrote it about us." said the boy with a deep morning ratchet voice.
He stood there like a pawn in a chess play. After a while, he couldn’t hold his heart speaking throughout his hazel eyes. A tear drops on his cheek and you could feel the whole room tearing apart.
"I’m sorry. I wish you could ear this. The person that I wanted the most to listen to that song can’t ear, or even feel anything anymore.
And she will might never be able to listen to it.”
