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She cried


That club going last night reminded me of her. Tonight I read Haruki's short story. There's a woman who cries in a man's arms. That brings me to the night when she cried hopelessly in my arms. I still don't know exactly why she cried. She was down all day. First real depressive side of her. I still don't know why she had to cry so hopelessly. She didn't tell me why. She just cried while we were watching some weird movie in my room. A lot of things I will forget. Unfortunately I will forget little details of happy moments that I spent with her. Somehow I am certain that if there will be one last thing that I will remember of her, it will be her trembling little body tightly clinging onto mine, sobbing endlessly. Why it is that I've developed this tendency of making big of sad moments, I don't know. I think I've managed to forget a lot of them. But if something persists its place in my memory, it usually is something sad.

I still remember the last glimpse of her, sitting right at the sofa right next to me right now.

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