There comes a point where silence becomes deafening, where someone's absense becomes relentless.
He took from his back pocket his little black moleskine, opened it to a fresh page and doodled a doodle of a flip-flop in a puddle,
"We were friends once," he muttered to himself, "its a shame but....oh, no matter." And he returned to his reflection in the glass and considering the empty void beyond it....
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