It was autumn. Alex sat on a bench, hunched over, head in hands. He had always admired the way that the heels of his hands fit directly into the hollows of his eyes, like a puzzle meant only for the sad. He wanted answers. He remembered her voice when she told him that singing was her passion and that she was more invested in her career than anything else, but he never thought that she would actually leave. He admired her honesty though, she had warned him, but he refused to believe. He had had the mindset that everything in life just had to work out. He pressed his hands into his eyes until all he saw was red and tried to forget his self.