He Left With Nothing
The apartment was as empty as usual, curtains flickering with the gust, caressing his raven hairs, Ryan sat on his desk, whirling a pen in-between his fingers. Papers scattered on the table, a blue diary decorated in cherry blossom print on its cover, peeked through the rustled papers. The room was chilly even with the heater on. He looked at those papers, scribbles on every paper. He wrote something like a long essay, but his handwriting was way worse to comprehend what he had written.
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