He slammed his sharpie down onto the small booth in the corner of the coffee shop, staring intently at the pile of napkins he had spent the past three hours writing on. Sighing, he looked out the nearby window briefly to see the raindrops falling roughly from the sky. He hadn't eaten in going-on-five days, and he didn't care. He knew he should probably have some warm dinner before going out into the cold for the long walk home, but he brushed the thought aside and filled his pockets with the many napkins he had written on.
He stuffed the sharpie in his coat pocket, then quickly finished his seventh cup of coffee. Setting a twenty on the table, he stood up and walked out, the harsh wind beating against his face like the waves to the shore.
God, how he missed her.