A tornado

He pulled a photo out of his pocket: outdated sunglasses, fuzzy hair and two geniune smiles.
Pictures, memories and a few letters are what he has left.

Why was he remembering her anyways? He considered her dead.
According to him, there was no earthly form of her anymore.
Although she existed in real life and she was present in every corner of him, he still opted to think she has left this world.

Sometimes, he’d get weak. And he would imagine her somewhere cooking in a kitchen, chasing a baby around a playground or just reading a book like her old self.
But NO, he would soon push that thought away.

Or he’d picture himself running into her, smiling at her, talking and catching up on all the lost years.
Yet, NO! The girl he knew was resting in peace. It was more comforting to believe that way.

Other times, he’d wish they would auction her so he would make the highest bid, anytime, anywhere, anyhow, just to win her back.

She was a tornado he walked into, a truck he drove under, a disease he caught... And he never fathomed he could love someone he hates so much.