The question nagged at him. He let his head drop as he sat, pensive, questioning. He was curious. Far too curious. The kind of curious that could eat away at a man and devour his very soul, and bend him to it’s will of sitting there eternally, to ponder endlessly and never find and answer. Yes, this was different. He shifted slightly, leaning against an arm of the chair. Shivering, he picked up the notepad and the pencil off of the end table adjacent to him. He clicked the mechanical pencil furiously, as though it was all he had to hold on to. Pulling the notepad close, he set pencil to paper. He pushed too hard and broke off part of the tip of the pencil but ignored it, not noticing. As pencil met paper, a picture gathered form. First, a few sketchy lines, but they shone starkly against the coffee-bleached paper. With several more strokes, the picture was undeniable. He stared at it in fear, and crumpled it up, tossing it into a pile of paper. Paper with drawings just like it. Drops of sweat fell from his forehead, and he shook terribly, a great tremor running down his spine. He contorted, and growled crazily, then whimpered and calmed himself. He couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t comprehend. The question gnawed at him, at his very soul. Suddenly he jumped up as he heard a voice. This one was different, the tone was unmistakable. His eyes widened, and his pupils grew very small. Someone else was there. He called out, but there was no response. His eyes grew blurry as tears began to swell. A shadow, no, not a shadow, but a form of utter darkness took form, coming closer in short, slow steps. Like a river that would not be denied by a flimsy dam, tears flowed from his eyes. He looked around crazily, but there was nothing to be found. He had to escape, he had to flee, but the form would not allow it. Spotting the stairs, he ran up them. The stairs creaked, groaning, if not mourning for the death that would ensue, and then the black form quickened it’s pursuit. The crazed man made it up the stairs, sprinting for the balcony. He saw the image then he had drawn on the paper, but still it didn’t make any sense. He felt the question tear at him, ripping him in two, and looking back and forth, he continued. He pressed his back against the railing, he had no where to run. With nothing left for options, he cried and looked below. He had no where to go. The form was coming closer, now running after him. It would not be denied. He felt the tears run down his cheeks. If he was not unstable before, he became so now; both mentally and physically. He tripped on the railing, and gasped, but it was too late. The figure ran up to the balcony and reaching out with a hand, screamed his name desperately, and the man began to see. Clearer than ever he had before. The black shroud dissipated, and he saw the form for its true nature. But he knew his fate was sealed. His lover’s hand reached out for him, the picture he could not understand, he understood. He saw the hand he’d drawn so many times. His emotions died, and his eyes turned black. He heard the call clearly, he heard its every syllable. “Because I love you…”