¿Cuántas penas vale tu amor?

Love that knows how to torment beautifully. The kind that leaves the smell of smoke on your fingers and an echo in an empty glass, which is refilled without asking. Here, feelings don't scream - they wheeze, as if they've caught a cold from long nights of waiting. A little pathos, a little self-deprecation, and a lot of truth about how hard it is to let go when even pain has become a habit.

It all sounds like a slow confession accompanied by the strings of an old guitar and the smell of cheap whisky. It seems like you already understand everything, but you still check your inbox. Because if you have to pay the price for love, at least don't give any change.