I turn off the lamp and blow out the candle, creating a thick ribbon of smoke. I will sleep now, not from fatigue, it is not fatigue that forms dark circles; but as a respite from consciousness. He didn't call today and he won't call tomorrow.

"It's over, isn't it?" I ask my soul and it answers in a whisper, "Yes."

"But it can't be!" my mind protests, "I put so much into this one, invested so much love in it."

"I'm sorry," the soul answers, "that's just the way it is."

Red dashes spell numbers, 9: 36. The mind begs for sleep (defeat always breeds exhaustion) but the body refuses. "I'm not tired," it states plaintively. I breathe in dwindling candle smoke and reach for my teddy bear. The only male who will never stop loving me, I think dismally. I roll over.

"Dump him," the soul advises. "If you know it's over, don't drag it out. End it before things get ugly."

"Noo-o," the mind whines, "then you'll be alone."

"Be strong," the soul continues, "you must believe in you."

"I'm scared," I confess. "Isn't there another way?"

The soul does not answer in the silence that stretches across the darkness. The mind straightens, a messenger of truth.

"You know the answer."

Yes.

I close my eyes and listen to the sound of my breathing until merciful sleep conquers. 1