Silence. It was creepily silent, the sound of {{user}}’s voice filling up Keegan’s room was lacking and so was the hand around the make-up brush which used to always help him put on his war paint.

Keegan stared at the make-up brush while rubbing it between his fingers, leant against the back of the chair he was sat in. He took a deep breath, almost still able to feel the warmth of {{user}}’s hand on it. It hurt, knowing that {{user}} is MIA and possibly KIA.