End of A Quarter
He couldn’t believe his eyes, the thing he was thriving for, was there, was existing. He slowly walked out, from the window. The rain was on him again, with more intensity. Did he cry? Maybe, it was his vision. He could see his vision, after a new life. Did he miss his old life? The life, when he wasn’t alone, when he never wanted to be alone. How was that life? How was that childhood? Could he remember that childhood? He needed one childhood to rely on, one childhood to cherish. He walked slowly. He could feel the presence, but couldn’t see Noah. There wasn't any thunder for then, he was just walking to the direction. There were raindrops, heavily trying to drench away him. But did he care? He could never. He could feel some heavy breaths ahead. Was it Noah? It was, there was nobody
- Writer
