People were staring at him, the disgraced politician. Why wouldn't they be? He was seen with that woman that wasn't his wife and the media blew it out of proportion. But maybe they were right to do that. Memories of the time before gnawed at him as he sat at the bar, staring at a glass of booze in his hands.
He hadn't known what he was getting into, when he first met her in this very bar. He was immediately entranced by her body, her attitude like spit fire. She sat right next to him and the two talked, about what he couldn't recall. When she left he just sat there, completely bewitched by her beauty. He thought he would never see her again. He was wrong.
Time passed and the two grew close, far too close. He was enamored with her, that girl, would do anything to please her. He was too careless when it came to her, for eventually he came home, clothes unkempt and lipstick on his face. His wife saw it immediately and she ran up the stairs, crying. The next morning, he found that his wife had killed herself.
The media was in an uproar when he came clean, guilt etched onto his face. After the suicide, he never saw the girl again. So in a way, he was left with nothing. Disgraced, he could only think about how you don't miss something until it's gone.