Care

The police was coming. 3 cars. She wasn't moving. She was still sitting on a chair in the corner of that dark room. Smoking a cigarette. Red Marlboros. Bottle of Jack in other hand. Sip by sip. Breath by breath. All you could see from there was a little bit of street light struggling to get to her through the smoke and curtains.

Because what's there left for her to care about? Her dead husband? Lost son? Family that gave up on her? Friends who are never there for her? What's there to live for if there's no one who cares? When she lost them all, when all of them lost her... They stopped caring, she stopped, as well.