He was driving back home. He did not even know why he went back, nothing really awaited him there. His house seemed to sense his loneliness and claw at him.
He wished he had her , but most of all he wished he had told her how wonderful she had looked the night she drove away.
You've been infected. With you-know-what. But it's better than being bloody grimy pus mess. Somehow this post made me angry.