A bad phase.

Sitting on the sofa, I noticed how Fredy was walking in circles, not saying anything normal, well, he wasn't lucid. I spent hours, noticing his behavior. I entered the room and cried compulsively. There was a reason, so I kept quiet until he returned to normal. - Fredy, can we talk? Get out of here, I don't want to see you or hear your voice. You know, I'm going to go out for a bit, I know I'm going through the pain of grief. His parents died in a tragic car accident. I want to go to the mall, shop, meet friends. But I'll be back soon, I won't leave Fredy alone, I know stories that the mourner committed, or almost committed, suicide. Fredy's voice is like an echo, so how can I have fun, I love him, he's my husband, he's just going through a bad phase, really bad. Arriving home, there he was, lying on the sofa, with the same clothes, dirty, wrinkled. I keep thinking: -- Fredy was always a vain man, I miss him, I miss the loving man. Ha how I feel!