The moon stares down at me from its throne in the sky, mocking me in all its glory, while its radiant followers, the stars, laugh as they sit beside it. Mockery is its best virtue in my eyes and I dare not deny it. I find it frustrating, yet relieving and exquisite.

The night's chilly wind flows in through the balcony door, causing me to shiver a bit. I stand on the cold, stone floor that allows me to stand above the rest of the building for a good view. I watch as the moon ascends to its rightful place while the stars follow the trail it leaves behind. It looks more radiant at night when the lights are off and there's nothing to replace the darkness around it.

I let out a depressed sigh and watch as the cold air from my lips dissipates before my eyes. Unlike the moon and the stars above me, my mind is clouded by many things. I can't help wondering what my life would have been like if I had broken up with much sooner than he did to me.

I lost what I never had to him without realizing it. I got too attached to him and by the time I realized it, I already gave everything up without a fight. I was a fool and I only realized it now, when the situation has dissolved.

The sound of someone knocking on my apartment door brings me out of the gloomy trance I put myself in. I step off the cold, stone floor, and journey to the front door, the carpets of the rooms leading to it tickling the soles of my feet.

I stroll to the door with ease and comfort, not wanting to answer it at all. I unlock and open the door to find the only person in this building I talk to.

"Alexei?" His name comes out as more of a question than an actual statement. I continue, "What are you doing here? I thought you were working late tonight."

He puts on another one of his famous toothy grins for me, almost sending a chill up and down my spine. He may be saying one thing, but his appearance tells me otherwise. His dirty blonde hair, once slicked back, is now loose and untidy as though he tore his hand through it over and over again. His puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks reveal themselves to me upon taking a closer, longer look at him.

"What happened?" I ask him, concerned for his safety before going on to say, "Don't tell me..."

"Yup." He confirms my sneaking suspicions, almost sounding heartbroken and down in the dumps, adding, "I caught her cheating with her boss. That slut."

I chuckle at the last words he says to me, bringing to life his humorous side. I step aside and let him in, taking his bags and coat from him. Once he's inside, he takes his rightful place on my couch with his head in his hands.

"You're not the only one that got dumped," I tell him, putting his things on the table.

I stroll over to his side and place the cans of beer on the coffee table in the center, handing one to him and taking one for myself. His eyes lock on me, watching my every move as I get comfortable beside him. I attempt to ignore his staring. I try to focus on other things, yet my curiosity won't leave me be.

"What is it?" I question him, forcing a smile on my lips for him to be satisfied.

His stunned look allows me to assume he's shocked about what I said. I can't blame him, but I expected a reaction much worse than this.

"How do you feel?" He asks me, clutching one of my many cushions in his arms like a teenage at a slumber party.

"I feel fine," I reply, attempting to dismiss the topic before it goes any deeper.

"Don't lie to me," He hisses, piercing the area around the hole in my heart with a needle.

It seems he's known me long enough to tell when I'm lying. It doesn't surprise me, yet it does at the same time if that's possible. I take a sip of my beer, the cool taste lifting the gloom off my taste buds and relaxing my body.

"I'm angry that I let myself get attached to him," I grumble, avoiding his stare as much as I can.

"That's it?" He continues to utter in disbelief at my response.

I can understand what he means by this as it's not the usual response to leaving a relationship. But I don't have any energy or even a supply of emotions to fuel my outbursts or childish tantrums.

"Alright," He says as his eyes dart all over my apartment in search of something to talk about until he finds something. "What's this?"

My gaze shifts from the beads of sweat forming on the can of beer in my hands to the paper he holds in his hands. Its neutral colors and thin layers allow me to assume it's the advertisement for a visit to a therapist's office. I thought I had put it in the pile with the rest.

"You're gonna see a therapist?" He asks me, his eyes scanning the flyer for all its contents before placing it back down on the table before us. "It's not a bad idea. You should go see one if you think you need to."

My eyes widen at his subtle response to the indication that I may be a bit of a crazy person. I expected a more worried look or a few questions prying into my personal life or other aspects. Once again, he surprises me more than the idealistic society around us does.

"I don't think it's necessary," I tell him, unsure of whether or not I should pay someone to listen to me talk about my problems.

"Why not?" His words continue to amaze me as if he wants to visit one with me. He continues, "I think it would be a good idea to see if you have a few screws loose or not."

He has a valid point I hadn't considered when I first thought it was another scheme I learned to avoid whether or not it has "benefits". Not once had I considered if it was going to be in my best interest.

"I'll think about it," I say to him, letting the topic come to its inevitable end.