As he sharpened the pencil, flakes of led fell down as if snow was a typical ocurrance in the capital of Spain.

5 seconds ago, he had poured his heart out onto the scrap paper he had on his desk.

He left everything behind and he swore every cell in his body was spilled onto that piece of paper.

If only she could read it, if only she could see the moon from the same roof as him.

On that paper were more than words. There were tears of fear that came from the thought that he could never see, hear, feel her again.

And with that, it broke. More like shattered. His heart and the tip of that pencil.