Manisfestations

Sometimes I wonder if I imagined it all. Were you simply a figment of my imagination? Something I manifested before me to keep the lonely nights at bay?

I keep telling myself that it happened, but as the days keep passing I'm not so sure anymore. I try to recall your velvety voice, and your laugh that could always ignite my smiles, but each time I do the sound changes, becoming distorted with each play like a broken record.

I've begun to question my sanity. How could I not when the imagination is more tempting than reality? That in the end, my imagination becomes my reality. And if so, where have you gone?

*From the perspective of Times from my short story, Times Knew Roman