Look!
It’s Adam.
The widower.
Yes.
Same time, every night.
Still looking.
His Charlotte was his life.
Sad.
Yes.
Why does he persist?
Rumour says he hasn’t yet let go.
Their love was infinite.
Everlasting.
Perfect.
Then the accident.
The drunk.
The collision.
He held her as she died.
The saddest of days.
Tears ran through the town.
His grief, our grief.
Now he walks the streets.
Looking.
Searching.
Same time, every night.
So focused.
Adam woke in the morning, the sun beaming through his bedroom window.
He felt momentarily rested until the pain returned and as was his morning practice he buried his face in his pillow and wept unshameably.
With the grief flooding over him he could feel her with him again.
His morning ritual.
He would then rise and shower.
He could never understand why his feet always smelt of his boots.
Morpethroad 
Sadness, 😦 the tears ran through the town – nice imagery summer.
Thank you RM. Sometimes these are easy to write depending on your mood.
Moods, music, so many different things that cause us writers to vary what we pen. Yes, I find them easier .
sad..every small thing reminds him of his better half..only true love can bring about this pain and anguish. In a way, those who don’t love are really lucky..but they don’t know what they are missing..Am I right in saying this?
Yes i think you are right about them not knowing what they are missing, sad them. Thanks for your comment I am glad to have stirred some emotion in my readers.