Deep in the night.

She sat alone in a hallway, gloomy and narrow, but with a calm sense of security. Unlike the spacious vacant centers with their ominous aurora that makes her anxious.

The dim sentiment perfectly fit into the depressing weather. Her eyes looked misty, like the eyes of lonely birds when they are about to burst into tears. She felt perplexed contemplating the unknown future.

 She sat there with a half bottle of whiskey in her hand, “just stay awake,” she thought. The pain and panic were everywhere in the air when she stayed sober.

The city was as heartbreaking as she was.

She staggered to her feet,  opened the door with her shaking hand, and went out.

The piercing cold wind was blowing her face, chilling her soul. There were few pedestrians on the street, no one noticed her loneliness.

A dark night with the unpredictible undercurrents.
A shattered life.

Not far away, the construction project was full of workers even as the clock struck midnight, all for a meager profit."Life is realistic," she thought.

She passed by the building they were working on as the wind began to blow stronger still. Suddenly a giant stone started to fall. The round moon hanging in the air, surrounded by darkness too strong to overcome, left its light dim and pale, as it reflected the falling stone. It was falling with an unmeasurable speed.

“Am I going to die?” She thought.

In her subconsciousness, she went back to that time when she was 5, mom and dad took her to the countryside where white little flowers grew. The clouds were sparse and the wind was soft. She smiled at the flowers; they were so small, pure, and fragile, like her heart. She picked them up and held them in her hands; looking at them be blown away with the breeze. It was a colorful picture reflected in her mind. She thought it was life, so beautiful that it intoxicated her.

 Time flew by, soon her parents split up to pursue their own romantic interests. When she stood on the street with her own solitude, when the cruelty of life made her drown leaving no room for her to breathe, when her only company became alcohol and tears, she thought, life was so real.

She said, “It’s about to end," with a sense of despair and release.

She was not yet old, she was still searching for the meaning of life.

But she was about to run out of money, she no longer could buy alcohol, and immersed herself in the reflection of life and love.
The imaginary of love probably would never come. No one would ever fall in love with a despondent girl who had a tortured soul.

“Bang” .

She saw a moment long ago, when she was just five; her parents held her hands and took her to the countryside where wild flowers grew. She picked them up and held them in her hands, watching them be blown away by the breeze.

 The stone smashed her head with tremendous force. Her brains were scattered in innumerable directions, her blood was spattered like sand thrown into the breeze. She was badly mutilated in a few fractions of a second. It smashed her body, her soul, and the love that would never come.

 The smile was on her face.

 Once someone asked her what if she crumbles tomorrow.
 She thought, " what if I crumble tomorrow? "

 Her life had been a heavy burden; she was too frail to carry the weight of life.

 It should have ended earlier, why didn’t it end until just now.
 It should have ended earlier, why didn’t it end until just now.

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