Void

CC moved.

Away, to the next town.

It's not really far away; just a highway and a couple miles away from my building.

The night before her moving day, I couldn't fall asleep.  Insomnia attacked as I panicked, about losing a friend, a loyal companion, a whole-hearted listener and a wonderful consultant whenever I need some advice as a new parent.
My one and only friend, that is.

Nowadays, I live a secluded life.  Simple, easy to predict and full of rituals and routines.  Though I am used to this monotonous rhythm of regularity in life, at times, I get to feel stifled because of that static and uneventful inevitable routines.

And now, her parking space appears to be an orifice, especially when the garage is packed.  Her van is gone now, leaving the spot a black void.

I stood by the puddle of oil her van left behind in that void parking space.  Feeling even more alone and hearing my coughing echoed.

On that dusty ground, those drips of oil, traced back to that void, went almost parallel with my tears.  The difference between the two was, the latter dried out easily whereas the former usually stayed in the form of stain, even if cleaned.

Nevertheless, when it comes to mental state, that void would soon be filled once the unit is sold.  But what about that emptiness and sadness in me that have never easily been filled?  They stay, watching the wall throw back the echo of the sound of reminiscence and loss.