ÉricThe morning stretches on, without real light.Or perhaps it's me who can no longer see it.Outside, the sun is rising, and I remain trapped in an inner darkness. A darkness that has nothing to do with night.I wake up in her sheets, naked, still burning from her.The room is strangely still.A heavy silence, threatening, saturated with absences.She is no longer there.I reach out my hand, searching for her body, her breath, a sign – but my fingers only brush cold sheets.How long has she been gone?Did she even sleep by my side? Or did I only dream her presence, her scent, her skin against mine?I get up, legs numb, my head drowned in a nameless fog.I feel like a castaway washed up on an unknown shore, too far from any landmark.I despise myself a little.I love her too much.My clothes are scattered around the room.As if she had methodically thrown them everywhere, with that mixture of contempt and care that is hers alone.Every unbuttoned button, every stray sock tells a sto
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