She's been through a ton of cliches in her life, but this - this she never thought would happen. 

He was an answer to a question that echoed through the confines of her empty room, but it was too late... or was it? Did he come at a perfect time in her life? Did she walk in in white at the wrong day, to the wrong crowd?

Society would say "he was a wrong turn", but her thoughts veered to a different direction. No one else would understand her but herself, and her once empty room, which would probably answer her back, should she find herself in it.

He was the flaw she needed to live a perfect life. He sits there in the dark, clutching a small gas lamp. Oddly, he does not complain of the heat touching his skin. She celebrates as she shares this side of the room with him, admiring the colors it projects.

She cannot imagine a day without him standing next to her, there in her head. She will never bid him goodbye.