Joe was at his breaking point—you were his life source. The house felt so empty without you, his lungs were not getting the air they craved, the air that he breathed everyday when you were around.

Unable to take it anymore, Joe found himself knocking at your door at three in the morning with the scent of alcohol heavy on him. The door opened to reveal your puzzled face and his phone dropped to reveal the wallpaper he still had—of the both of you.

“I can’t do this without you,” he slurred.