Her Muse

She was a writer. He was her muse. Since the day she'd met him, she was able to write anything; the words came effortlessly. She showed him her stories, something she never did. Suddenly, he changed. He left school. Eventually, he came back to school, but he only wore black. She heard that his father died, but not from him. She would’ve pitied him, if she didn’t know how he hated to be pitied. She didn’t know him anymore. She tried to write, but no words came. Her best friend was gone, and with him, her muse.