“Humans are fickle beings,” he said with a bitter smile.

“One day they say they love you, the next day they leave almost without a trace… Only leaving a stack of filled and signed divorce papers behind.”

The other took a drag of his cigarette—staring at the smoke rising to the dark sky above, he listened without uttering a sound.

“I thought she loved me… But I guess I was wrong, wasn’t I?” he continued, laughing. A small, sad, remorseful laughter.

“She’s a ,” the other said, straight to the point, offering no words of consolation.

“Maybe,” he easily agreed, “But I had loved her… I did love her… Maybe I still do…”

“You are just wasting your time,” stealing a glance at the man beside him, the other took another drag of his cigarette.

“I know,” he took a drag of his own cigarette, ashes falling to the ground below. “I know,” he repeated. “But we were perfect together…”

The other snorted in half-amusement and half-disbelief.

If so, why is he here with him, struggling to hold down his tears?

“But we were!” he insisted stubbornly, dropping his cigarette on the balcony floor in misdirected anger. “She is the perfect one for me!”

Present tense? He would never get a chance, would he?

The other only stayed in silence, although he knew that he was starting to lose his patience.

“I don’t know why it turned out like this… What did I do wrong? We were perfect together…” he mutte