He stood in front of the mirror, with the section over his eyes now sprayed in red with a spray can, the kind used to graffiti walls. The red which was like the size of a duct tape strip. Eyes closed. He’d felt so blind without her, Onya was her name. The feeling was extremely overwhelming. Morbidly melancholic.
He then stared at the red spray in the mirror. It enforced a potent sense of guilt. One he felt burning over his heart.
Tears grew to a brim, about to pour down his face. When they do, they would become stained in red from the spray strip around his eyes.