The gloom made itself at home in him. The winters could not numb his pain, the summers could not warm the coldness of gloom, the rains could not wash it off him.The seasons wore by and the reality of his wife’s death clung to him, the sadness staying. 

Sadness is a sadist and so it relished the pain he felt, thriving on it. 

She came in like heaven’s breath. And warmed his heart like a cozy hearth in winter, soaked in his sadness like the sun, washed off his pain like the rains, warmed his heart.

She did what changing seasons could not do. She defeated sadness. Her love did. 

Love, a David. Sadness, a Goliath.

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