Too Late for Your Regret
I felt a strange, searing heat, like the weight of his tears could somehow reach me, even in death.
After what felt like an eternity, his sobs quieted, and he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a shaky hand. The smoke swirled around his haunted eyes, casting shadows over his sharp, handsome features.
As he took a long drag, his gaze fell on my urn, and he froze.
"Damn it… I forgot you hate the smell of smoke," he whispered, a bitter, broken smile tugging at his lips. He crushed the cigarette out, the embers sparking and then dying under his thumb.
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