Ada was fire. She burned him until there was nothing left of his former self. Leon was a ghost that lingered to see her face once more. She was abandonment. The sound of tires burning rubber as dawn glinted in her eyeglasses. She didn't look back. She was gone. A photo in his hands that was torn at the edges and fading in color. He wanted to throw it out, but couldn't.

"I think of you often." It was in her eyes. Only, he swore, for the sake of hurting him.

"I don't think of you at all." He lied.