On my walls, there are holes where our pictures used to be. Little white squares in the middle of a collage of stationery knick-knacks that I've collected from the world.

And just like that, he's gone.

Yet, I can't help but save the memorabilia that's him. He'll stay with me, in a small box, in the darkest corner of my closet because I still hope. I close my eyes and hope with the inner core of who I am that this is not how things will stay.

I imagine us fatefully meeting, casually talking. I imagine me putting up the pictures we took together back into the small empty spaces in my wall. I imagine us being happy again.

This is not forever. I hope that this is just for now.