A week without you has gone by and let me tell you, it has been hard. A storm started at the bottom of my guts and was brought up by the courage and pain you produced in me all the way up to my heart and the weather conditions inside of it are not favorable. Cloudy and rainy and broken and teared apart, the raindrops start to fall down at the whisper of your name. The memories seem to be the storm hunters this time, giving a break to the real ones, this is one storm they cannot or will not survive to. You are still there, smiling as radiant as the sun but as timid and hiden behind a lovely puffy cloud, the one cloud the storm hasn't touched. That cloud accompanies the storm in every adventure, destroying hearts and minds. You can tell I've missed you a lot this week without you specially because now every object takes form into you or your arms or hands. I wish you could still be here. It's pouring wet in my heart, I might catch a cold and die from pneumonia (not that I care).