Coffee stains, faint and ghostly, ruined the long-since virgin wood of the table beside her. Powdery ashes settled like smoldered dust into the crevices of the scratched surface. The skeletal remains of cigarettes lay cast aside amidst the war-torn ashtray.
Mindless sketches lay strewn across the table, though most abandoned months ago. The graphite was smudged on many pages, a few bearing sign of an angry cigarette burn. There was just emptiness in those pages, just blackness among the white.
She was lost. She had found her way before, but her little strength was ebbing. She wished this was the last time she would ever feel so alone. Though she knew it wouldn’t be.