Burnt Skies

    He glanced down at the worn out razor blade sitting on the edge of the sink and then back up to the small mirror hanging on the wall. His blonde hair, that was usually short, was now down to his shoulders. His eyes, that were normally an electric blue,  were now cloudy. Lifeless. A single tear fell from his eye and down his cheek as he reached for the blade. He ran his fingers over the blade, light enough that he could feel the sharpness of it, but not hurt himself with it. Yet.       There she was, staring back at him. He knew she wasn't real, it was impossible. She was dead, he had watched her die. Tears ran down her face as she watched him handle the blade. He could see her mouthing words at him, but it was impossible to try and understand what she was saying. The gate that was holding all his tears back opened. He threw the blade, fell to his knees and held his head in his hands.              He only had a minute, two at most, to let his tears flow freely down his face.  Soon he heard tiny steps padding down the hallway and closer to the bathroom. He quickly stood up and wiped the tears from his eyes.  It wasn't long before a little girl stepped in the doorway. A little girl who was an exact replica of her.    " Daddy, I can't sleep. I miss mommy."     He leaned down and was face to face with the little girl.  " I miss her too, baby. Come on, I'll read you a bedtime story."      He picked her up in his arms and walked back towards her room. For now he would be okay, the razor blade was already forgotten.