the coffee is growing cold

At the young age of ten, he decided silence was his best friend. It was always there when no one else was, pervading his loneliness and providing gentle, comfort words when the screams from first floor worsened.

It caressed him as if he were its child, like a mother would do to her son.

Like his mother should’ve done to him.

Thirty yeas living in this world managed to teach him one thing: if there was a hello, surely there was a goodbye.

And so there was.

He tried to find solace within the sea and the huge castle he dubbed as home.

There were times where he missed the caress and the soft murmurs from his first friend, times where he despised the loud bang of the wave smacking the rocks, and when the ancient building became too quiet it was unnerving.

There were times where he sat alone on the stiff chair, nursing a mug of coffee and thinking olden days while staring at spaces.

The coffee was left growing cold.

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Uh. Hi. I’m sorry for absent really long. Not my fault that I was banned from using internet. I posted this via my phone, and typed it also from here. And my English is a bit rusty as I rarely used it in past approximately two weeks.

The title’s from Dear Catastrophe Waitress. Anyway the words are 173. For FFFAW. I managed to stay within the limit! ♪