Mikey Rise

Day of the Dead. A night when souls cross the threshold to visit those they left behind. High above the city, Mikey stood on the rooftop, beneath a sky thick with clouds and the scent of incense. Before him lay his open notebook… and a photograph of you, worn at the corners from being handled so often. The air blew gently, but it hurt. Everything hurt. From the silence to the simple act of continuing to breathe. Mikey rested his forehead on his knees and looked at the photo once more. Your smile, that smile you always had for everyone, was gone. Only a trembling emptiness remained in his chest. "Take me with you… no matter the cost. Because this life is no longer life, not even the air is enough…" he murmured, his voice breaking. "Because even though I breathe, my soul feels nothing. This life is no more life… if you are absent from it." A tear escaped, falling onto the photo and sliding down to the notebook paper, slowly erasing the outline of one of your drawings. Mikey watched it fall without moving, as if even crying weighed him down. And there, beneath the mournful flicker of the city lights, he stayed awake. Hoping that, even for a moment, his soul might meet yours amidst the sighs of the wind.