I fell to my knees and helplessly begged for answers. I feared that my tormented shell could not stand any more of this torturous pain, that I had been pushed too far down streets of death and sorrow and guilt. I figured that the Gods lack in killing me was made up for in this one instant. I thought the sheet of terror covering my eyes might obscure the sight of my body slumped over the cold cobbled pavement, but it couldn't, for the image was as persistent as having my cornea replaced with a painting of the devil himself.I could not bare to close my eyes for fear that they may not open without before bathing in the beautiful stare of my true love. Every breath was struggled, as was every failing beat of my heart and every weakening shot of blood through my decrepit veins and arteries. I looked directly ahead to stare into the unconscious mirror image lying on the floor. I sprayed my arm out in front of me, pathetically attempting to grasp the hand of my own sunken body.
I began to sob. This was it. The end. On my knees in the middle of a puzzled horde, dying next to myself. I felt the last tear of life pour from my eye and run down the bridge of my nose. The second before that final tear fell from my face was the longest of all. I faced the ground and prayed for my soul to be saved, for my memories to return, for my friends to die old and grey. All just prayers of a sick and sorry man who had seen the errors of his ways. The second was finally over and the ice cold touch of death had wiped that last tear from me. My hand slipped through the hand of the alive version of myself and the curious absence of feeling it presented me, stirred me from my knees.