He stands on the cobblestone corner, his hair dripping and matted to his head but his suit still crisp and pristine. A worried expression is stretched out across his lips, tightening with each quick glance to the gold watch on his wrist.

He expects someone, he knows just that. Any moment he figures he'll see them striding out from the clouded, misty distance. Who, he cannot seem to bring himself to say. He holds their name on his tongue, but can't push it past his worried lips without it evaporating into the fog at the touch, leaving him puzzled and blank.

He is all by oneself, both in the physical realm and in mentality, not a single soul is in this land but him, and he yearns for the companionship of his forgotten friend. The gloomy sky is grey, sad, and it cries softly down to the earth below. The clouds are clandestine, and black. A dark caricature of life.

Flashes of unheard memories fade through his mind every so often. A glistening silver needle… a small drop of immaculate crimson blood… a tear escaping from a stormy eye, falling into the puddles of a previous rain… he gives little to no thought about it, except, perhaps, a moments confusion.

Above him, the Heavens sob. Echoes and cries ring through the moist, suffocating air, a terrible transformation from crystal lakes and blissful songs to a burning, desolate wasteland. He glances at his timeless watch with a weary look, the pains and agonies of lost luck hope and love slowly spreading throughout his quickly freezing heart. He falls to his knees, the visions shining in again, in the form of blistering anguish.

A face, a beautiful face, with blood painted lips, flawless fair skin and glittering emerald eyes, injecting faux tears into the bright green. They dance with a devilish twirl. Then himself, and his stormy dark eyes in a third person perspective, looking down from far above. His suit jacket sways in an accelerating wind. The heavens pour, the sobs and factitious tears ring through his ears. The flashes fly, the needle, a dirty syringe injecting precious chemicals into a pulsing vein. His head topples down into the puddles, and he cries, no more than a slight impression of an echo against the raging storms. The wind screams. Flashes. Pain, the sobs and the synthetic cries…all intertwining into a sharp blade slicing through reality. A prickly green vine, yet no red rose. Sobbing heavens become fiery hells. He screams, he falls, the wind is absolutely deafening.

"End it!" He howls, his voice distorted and disturbed. "End it all!" Red pain, a splash of cool, fading water, darling silence. The cold liquid is refreshing on his face. The syringe with the glistening needle falls from above to his side, clattering on the cobblestone penetrating the silence with many an echo. The dark crimson blood stains the clear water, falling from his now dead vein. His soaking chest rises and falls with every unlucky, unwanted last breath. He glances once more to the malicious, malignant skies. Her face, now etched in the clouds, no longer sobbing her deceptive tears, but for all eternity laughing, with her poisonous joy.

And with the last vision of her evil eyes bright in his mind, his eyes seeming to now procrastinate the inevitable end, eventually shut, and his chest made its last rise and fall, and everything faded into the cherished black with the fresh tears of the returning heavens pouring down on him from above.