He followed you everywhere. Absolutely, you saw his features in every passerby. When we closed our eyes, every night, the same guy. Without his warmth by his side, it was almost unbearable to sleep. Hugging the pillow, you remembered the old nights when he was around. Carlos was not your type, someone you absolutely cannot be with. But the forbidden fruit is so sweet, and the temptation to write to him is getting stronger. All that's left of him is a cat. It is gray with spots and red in color. He scratched his already crippled soul even more. Drunk. At night. Alone at home. You succumbed to your heart, which seemed to ache to see him again. By writing only a short "Come“ with mistakes. The answer did not take long to wait, although it was already late in the yard. "I'm getting dressed. 15 minutes.“,- You received the same cold response. Knowing full well that you will regret it in the morning, but all reason and rationality have faded into the background.