This is the life, he thought. Sat here in front of the big bay window with my love, side by side, the perfect married couple. What can anyone else give me?
He sat on the brown, leather pouffe in front of the open door. He smoked his cigarette, as he always did after his evening dinner. He took his glass of wine and drew a sip. He smoked and drank in silence, as he always did after his evening dinner. He passed the cigarette from his right hand to his left hand and with the right patted the other brown, leather pouffe, to his side.
He continued smoking his cigarette. He drank his wine. He breathed in the cold winter air, tainted with his cigarette smoke, as he always did ater his evening dinner. It wasn’t always cold. It wasn’t always winter. His right hand reached out for the reassuring touch, as it always did, every evening as he smoked his cigarette and drank his wine.
She was gone now, his love. He touched the pouffe at his side to remind him, as he always did after his evening dinner.