"How terrible it is to love something, or someone, that death can touch"

This is where we met.

This is where we fell in love.

This is where we cried together.

And this is where we depart.

Our Rooftop Memoir, 

It's our precious memory. 

A story by Fake_D

Please do not copy in any form.

She sat at the ledge of the rooftop, wrapping her own knees as the cold wind teasingly blew, tickling her pale skin. She would slightly shiver and her palm along her thin frame, in hoping that the friction would at least give her the little warmth that she longed for. Her wet eyes glistened under the moonlight. She would wipe her trail of tears with the back of her palm, but then new trails would fall again. It was almost useless. How amazing her tears would not stop falling. She had been sitting there for hours with her white headphone. A sorrowful piano piece kept on looping on her music player. She put it on hold. She just wanted to listen to the piece. She tortured herself that way so she would move on the next day and forget about yesterday.