Here's something no one knows: you can't make people forget emotions.
Elena stands in the barren room and tries to remember why she feels so sad. She tries to remember why her heart wants to break. She keeps tracing the thought in her head - the memory of who, why whisks away from her.
The window is ajar, and the curtains flutter helplessly in the November breeze, silent and lifeless.
Elena decides to blame the hurt on the stress, decides to blame the stinging behind her eyes on the cold air, as she slams the window shut.
It almost works.