A woman.

December morning, a woman standing behind the door. Perhaps, no one can't see the falls on her cheeks that had lost it blushed. That window still open to forces the oxygen between that partitions. About the seconds, the minutes, the clock was just a time disguises. She knows, obviously. On her head, the greatest problem she keeps by herself. That woman found no one neither listens nor grabs her hand and say very beautiful words, "Hey, you have me."

Placement of some pillows are messy, then she pretends not to know. One thing that she wants just, home. Like, feeling homey, literally. Not just came back to the house without any meaning of it. After every hard day, deep down she scared she wouldn't gain something that really substantial, called happiness.