The room was empty - only the window shades moved and
disturbed the peace. The gloomy atmosphere was heightened
even more by the lonely rays of light piercing the glass and
hitting nothing but dust gliding in the still air.
The room wasn't big - it stretched some 10 feet wide and
another 10 feet across. The walls were painted bright blue,
with the bad paintwork showing in some places. The walls
were barren, but for a high tower-like closet standing in
the middle of a wall staring at anyone who entered the room
and looked straight ahead. It had no doors - only rusty
hinges that once held them remained. The shelves were
stacked with meticulously arranged clothes. The bottom shelf
held several dozen boxer shorts, socks, and other underwear,
organized neatly by color. The shelf above it was covered
with several dozens of shirts also arranged by color. On the
next shelf there lay a dozen or so pants, not surprisingly
also placed by color. The fourth shelf was filled with
sweaters - again by color. You could see peeking from the
fifth shelf a coat's sleeve. The sixth shelf was beyond
view. It must have been also arranged by color. If you
looked closely under the stacks of clothes you would have
seen nylon covers protecting the wood from damage.
The left side of the closet was brighter than the right one
- it must have been facing the window once.
Now, to the left of the closet stood a wide long table, also
of wood - it must have been bought with the closet. The
table occupied all the space up until the wall. On it were
dozens of scattered papers. Photocopies of articles, exams,
work-sheets handed out in school. But most of the papers on
the table were blank.
Beside the papers, lying here and there on the desk, were
music CDs, numbering about twenty or so. One was open - the
CD missing, but nothing was playing. The sleeve was out
opened in the middle. You could see that a line was circled
in one of the songs:
"I gave you more than I could give."
Near the open CD case was another sheet of paper, with words
scribbled on it in an unintelligible writing. The pen was
lying with its cap off on the blank space left on the sheet
of paper.
The chair was not near the table - nor was it anywhere in
the room.
From the right side of the closet only a blank wall
stretched up until the bed.
The bed itself was near the right wall of the room. It was
blue in color, with white sheets covering it. A pair of
jeans laid thrown on the orthopedic pillow and one sock lay
curled near the foot of the bed, the other nowhere to be
seen. The covers were not folded and seemed a bit worn. You
could easily see that somebody slept there that night.
As you looked further down the right wall, you saw a drawer
stand, with a stereo unit on it. Two cords stretched out of
it to two speakers hanging at two opposite corners of the
room. It was on, but not playing.
The drawer set must have come with the table - only someone
used it for a stand.
Near the drawer-set stood a stand with about 200 CDs.
Organized, apparently, in order of priority. The stand was a
big tall turning box, almost full - with about 20 empty
spaces.
A few feet from the CD-stand stood the opened the door.
The left wall had one big bookcase, with dozens of books
filling it - some even lying on top of others. The bookcase
had glass doors - four of them. Here and there you could see
some notebooks, marked with numbers. But besides that, these
were only books.
The floor had a small round carpet spread over it, with
black and white stripes. The carpet had a rectangular shape
of light on it, coming from the window above the bed. The
curtain's shadows still danced around, despite the closed
window.
If you looked closely under the carpet, you wouldn't have
seen dust. The room must have been cleaned recently.

My friend stood in the middle of the room holding something.
He was no stranger to these books, CDs, and papers. It was
practically his second home.
He looked around surveying what he saw. Nothing new - only
the closet seemed strange. He paid little attention to it.
He looked at the moving shadows on the floor, and again
looked at the sheet of paper he held in his hand with a lone
tear sliding down his cheek:

"I feel great. I finally feel free and uninhibited by a
thing. She finally agreed and I understood at last that life
is a pretty good place. I don't know how to tell you this,
but when I heard her laugh the last time I spoke to her, it
moved something inside me again. Something that was dormant
for too long. I think I forgot what she meant to me. I got
used to the idea of her too much. She was there. She wasn't
there. I couldn't live with it for too long, so I put it to
sleep. Now it finally awoke again.
I'm starting my life at last. This time I'm going to make
it. I am going to succeed.
I no longer fear life and I no longer fear whatever is
around me. I feel as if I was injected with some drug and I
can't clear my head. It envelops me and I can't do anything.
I only smile and laugh.
I don't know if you understand what I'm trying to say, but I
am still saying it. Everything I do now has meaning at last.
I see now why I live and why I love. It's all clear to me
now. However, with all that happened lately, nothing brings
me more joy than her.
She is wonderful. Her voice is like precious music that runs
through you clearing your soul and letting you breath
without fear. Her eyes make me understand why I live. It is
the only thing I know - I see the universe in them. She is
everything to me. I can't tell you about each thing in her
that makes me ecstatic. It's everything. It's her. All about
her and around her.
I finally have what I want. The door I for so long craved to
open, stands ajar at last. I'm preparing to take my first
step through it. The world I wanted to visit for so long now
beckons me and I feel ready to answer its call.
I don't know if you understand, but I am sorry. I did not
want it to end like this. I do hope you understand why I
did it.
Thanks,
I love you."

He looked at the light from the window hitting the carpet
and blinked. He straightened up and headed for the door. He
took one last look at the room standing in its doorway.
There, hanging, on a rope tied to some sort of hook by his
neck, was his best friend.