“Just move on.” They say, but Jinki never listened.

Instead, he sat in the corner of his dark, unkempt bedroom and continued scribbling in his journal. Black ink noted all his memories, feelings, and thoughts, with the fear of forgetting, of finally moving on.

“Luna left.” They say.

Liars, Jinki thought. She was still wrapped in his embrace; he had not yet let her go. The warmth of her body was caressing his. He could still hear her breathing, soft and slow, like calm waves reuniting with the shore.  

“She’s dead.” They say.

But she was still alive, trapped in Jinki’s fragmented heart.