He waited. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours and each hour felt like an eternity. She told him she’d be there, she swore. He believed her. Maybe he was too stubborn and maybe he just wanted to believe that someone cared enough to show up.
Every person he saw in the shadows looked like her and every step he heard in the distance sounded like her black, ankle-strap heels. As his wait reached the 3 hour mark, the sad realization that he should’ve known all along finally hit him – she wasn’t coming. Just like the night before and the night before that. She was never coming but he’d still wait for her. How could he let his last chance true happiness just fade away without a fight? He wasn’t going down like that.
Every night he continued to wait longer and longer. Every night his hope faded just a little but not enough. He wasn’t giving up. Not on her, not on himself and not on love. Her voice still echoed in his ears and it’s a sound he could never let go of. No matter how long he waited though or how loud the voice, she didn’t show up. She never showed up.
They found him there two weeks later. A sad old man, laying by a grave. Dead of a broken heart.
Writer Path 
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