Sadness (FICTION)

He walks into the room and abruptly closes the door behind him. Leaning against the door, he no longer has any strength left to hold back the tears. He is embarrassed, but not ashamed. What were the doctor's exact words?...Nevermind. It's painful enough without the memory. He slides his sleeve across his face, catching both tears and snot. He realizes for the first time that he is audibly sobbing.

He slides down to the floor and holds his face in his hands. He no longer makes an effort to control himself. The marble floor feels icy beneath his heaving body. He begins to shiver, not fully aware whether the cold or the sadness is the culprit. Does it really matter? He hasn't eaten in two-and-a-half days; he'd go for another week if it would change anything.

He looks around the handsomely-designed room. He has personally selected every article standing before him, yet it suddenly feels so empty. Dark and empty, just like his life.