Mi Primer Día Sin Ti

The first day after love is like the first day after a storm: the air is clean, but everything inside is wet. You seem to be alive, you seem to be breathing, but every breath is rough. The world remains unchanged - the mugs are on the shelf, the morning light is the same, even the cat hasn't noticed the tragedy - but something inside has shifted. It's as if a single part has been pulled out, and the mechanism now works, but with a strange ringing sound.

It's funny and sad at the same time: you sit there, wondering who is to blame - you, him, fate, Mercury in retrograde? And then you suddenly realise that it's not where you are that matters, but who you are with. That without a person, even your favourite place sounds false. And all that remains is to let time do its work - let it repair, glue, sew something new out of sadness. For now, it's just the first day. Without him.