Standing close to the ledge, I stare out below to the almost silent street. Most of the stores have closed for the night; every few minutes or so a motorcycle passes by.
I continue to watch in silence, not really knowing what to think. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, which is probably why I’m standing here outside, where everything looks peacefully silent.
Lately, Evans The Strong had been feeling a bit worn out, more than usual. He couldn’t tell if it was his frustration over his current situation, or the anxiety he felt every time he’d take a step outside the door, or the sadness he felt every time he remembered those who were no longer with him in this world. It always felt as if there was this shadow lurking at the corner, waiting for him to lower his guard, so as to silently strike and leave him desperately gasping for air.
The Wasted Wanderer 