Any clue as to what happened in the last few days would be one more step towards getting his mind back in order.

His stained hands leave grubby finger prints on the edges of the pages as he flicks through the worn looking notebook.

He stops at an entry:

Let it all end now, ideal as I reminisce,
Far from the grim truth of reality.
Like a rock star suicide,
An immaculate memory prevails.
Blemishes removed, imperfections
overlooked... or even celebrated.

Of course, it was about her again.

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