It has been nearly 10 years since Fred has passed.

Not a day went by that George didn't think about him, and it showed.

He lost his light and spunk. The heartfelt, goofy energy he was most known for.

After all, his happiest times came from his time with Fred. It felt as if a sliver of his very being had lost its way into the darkness.

George sat just in front of a window to the burrow overlooking the garden, plopped down on a small rocking chair. He held a cup of tea in his hands, yet most of it has remained to the brim and since gone cold.

It was raining quite heavily outside, each droplet splashing against the windowsill.

".. The kids are asleep."

Your voice echoed in the back burner of his mind as you approached him from behind, his eyes staring blankly into the field.

He seemed to be lost in another episode of isolated sorrow.