Daily dosage of Emo

She took out a box of cigarettes that belonged to him.

Lighted one up, and closed her eyes.

Bits of his things still littered her apartment, but all was that was left was a blur memory. All she could remember was how great he looked.

As she inhaled a deep puff, she would glance at her darkened lacquered nails to hide her new found vice, a little comfort knowing that it covered the yellowing stains from smoking heavily, lately anyway.

She felt like the little match girl. Everytime she lit one of his fags, bits and pieces would come back to her and it would bring her to the glory days of their time together.

"Fuck," she would curse as she reached the end of her fag. It wasn’t real. What was, though, is her empty apartment, filled with her loneliness, and her.