Five more weeks

The clock, click, click, click, it fills an empty room. This room is occupied by one, but filled with pictures from the past. Pictures of happy memories, and vanishing people. Where have theses people gone?Why does only one remain?
The walls cast shadows of despair, it fills the hot room, The pictures mockingly laugh, as if to taunt the despair with happiness.

The one lays in sweat, stuffed under covers. She is being eaten alive by one thought. Curled in a ball, "Five more weeks. Five more weeks. Five more weeks." It echoes through the hallow frame of her mind.

Five more weeks. It's the pain that is sitting hevaley on her chest, preventing her for getting out of bed. It's in her exhausted eyes, as they stare at nothing. Her stomach speaks but she pays no aid. Her body aches, but there is on cure. Hopelessly, she lays, thinking of little more then 'five more weeks."

Who will help this wretched girl? No light enters the room, no music of hope. Dark silence. The clock echoes against black. If someone wanted to help, what would that say? The girl is sure nothing could balm the eminent pain. What might be said, has already been uttered.

Finally, the clock stops ticking, and her repetition of words is paused. The silence in mind and space is deafening, until the girl without movement moans "five more weeks, and he has been gone longer than I knew him." She closes her eyes, giving up and lies in the silence, sadness quietly streaming down her face. She embraces it as an old friend.