He missed you, deeply. Regretting every mistake he had made when he was with you. He lost his chance and now spends his days in a disheveled studio which is also his home. Sculpting and drawing you and your beautiful features.

All the sculptures he made, there was always this regret he could feel deep down, he wished he didn’t say the things he said, did the things he did. He wished he could be with you again.

Another day, another sculpture of you, interrupted by a sudden knock on his door.