Short story

"He doesn’t know why it happened but it did she died. Who you may ask, Rosy his best friend and lover. His last memory of her falling slowly, red hair flowing in all directions, tears streaming down her features as she fell. Her lips curled into a smile, she killed herself. She jumped out the window of their cozy loft, hitting the cold hard cement with a sickening smack. He tried to move on but can’t, all he can do is mourn for her, his sadness burning inside him, and I don’t think he wants to move on either. Her smile, her laugh, her eyes, he loved her and she loved him. But like summer and the beauty of fall love is short meant to end in the cold death of winter. She was the sun burning hot and bright, but the day can’t last ending in the sadness of night. But it will always come back no matter how long it seems it gone, winter ends and brings back the warmth of spring and the sun. He will find another and forever remember her, Rosy the sun and he the moon. She summer, he fall. She might be dead but it doesn’t mean she is gone, she’s always there no matter what."