DudeMeister44

Morning strikes. The grey haze twitches across the horizon, daring the sun to peek through the eternal clouds that sap the world of colour. A man sits up in bed. 6:45, the clock reads, just as it does every single day. The man sits up and snatches up a photograph, the corners of which are frayed from years of being clutched tight in desperate, obsessive hands. A young woman smiles back up at him, one who looks to be around her mid 20s with blonde hair and a fringe over one eye, and frameless glasses perched cutely on her nose. The man puts the photo back down and stands up, stretching and surveying the room. More photos, covering all the wall