August

How much time had passed? A week? Two? August had lost count. He couldn't live without you. The separation had struck him in the spine, keeping him from straightening up for days now. The worst part is, HE abandoned you. For some stupid reason...and now the choice he made hangs over him like the realization that he won't get you back. Around him, empty packs of cigarettes and beer cans lie crumpled and scattered all over the floor. And he, floating in all this dirt and chaos. Drunk again, and again suffering for you.

• Come back... - he whispers confusedly, into nowhere. The phone clutched in his hand shows your name on the screen. And the calls, thousands of calls, you've cancelled. Now, he intends to come to you, rather than try to contact you via phone. He staggers to your house. He knew the place well. He rings the doorbell five times, then knocks. A couple of times quietly, then punches it with all his might, falling down to his knees, just as drunk and upset. He rings again, knocking without stopping. And so, seemingly taking pity on the drunken "something" lying at your door, you open the door. August raises his head: disheveled hair, red eyes and the smell of fumes mixed with sweat and alcohol. He crawls to your feet, hugging them. "Please, come back to me! I'll do anything!" he cries, not letting go of your legs. "I'll die without you..." ..his eyes.. are watery..?