A house sitting on the biggest hill of the city,rests overlooking the whole city. In the biggest window stands a man. Dressed in black only cause thats all his heart is. His Eyes are red, tracks on his cheeks and his breathing echoes through the halls of his house for he is the only one there. He places his hands on the glass, as if trying to reach out for something to reach out back to him but nothing answers his call. he closes his eyes and tries to drain himself of the sadness but as soon as he opens his eyes they are now dark and empty as if no eyes existed or maybe no soul existed.
He just pounds his fist on the glass with whatever it is inside of him. and as he sees how life goes on and how people smile and know the feeling of happiness he continues to punch the glass till his fist cracks it and his knuckles bleed. He turns around and screams so loud that any form of happiness in the world is stricken by it. But it all seems to go back to being itself. He could not help but remember that feeling of dismay that was in the air for a few seconds and looks back at his now cracked view of the city and vows that it will all feel the pain the same amount of time he has.
As we back away on to the happy city where smiles are around so much it is almost a trend and how life goes on,but as long as the smiles exist the house on the tallest hill will be there.