She came to visit every night.
He would pour a glass of wine and she would fill him with happiness and with stories.
Then, one Wednesday night she didn’t show up.
He drank the wine anyway, feeling alone and joyless.
The next night there was still no sign of her, but again he drank the wine.
This went on night after night. Each night he would sit with the open bottle, pen in hand and wish she was with him.
He didn’t know why she had left him, but he had never known where she came from either.