As I proceed to write each word on the letter, my tears just won't stop falling. I put my other hand over my mouth muffling my sobs but it's getting harder and harder each time a flash of memory crosses my mind. As the possibilities of all the things that I can write in my letter pops up in my mind the pressure from my hand just increases.
    Finally when the pressure becomes so dense to the point where I can't even breathe , I let go of my hand. After all there's no one here in this empty house again which is not a huge surprise so there's no point in me trying not to make any noise. 
     At last I finished my letter for him. My tears are almost dry but I wipe my cheeks with my hands anyways. It's already become a habit of mine. 
     Now I am here downstairs in the living room again. I'm waiting while sitting on the couch again. I check my phone for the time again for the umpteenth time. Well this is my life, my usual night time routine as you might say.
    Just as my consciousness is about to give in and the sweet sensation of sleep is about to overpower me my phone rings.The familiar yet so strange contact appears on the screen. It's him.

Ring Ring.

"Hello," I answer as normally as my voice would allow me to.

"I won't be coming home today, my friends and I are out here for drinks."

And just like that before I could even utter another word he hung up.

"Well be safe and have fun," I say particularly to no on