XX sits down in front of a blank screen and types these words out on his keyboard. It was. It will never be again.
XX stops typing and gazes out of the window at the tree at the end of the yard. Here and there some leaves still remain on its branches and XX sits deep in thought staring at the leaves.
XX contemplates a leaf and attaches a hope to it. A gust blows hard and the branch sways to and fro. The wind makes the leaf flutter frantically and XX becomes anxious, because if it should fall then XX’s hope will fall with it.
XX gets up walks to the kitchen to make a coffee. XX then walks back to the empty chair at the desk by the window and sits down. XX lights a cigarette and sips his coffee.