It wasn’t too long ago that we said those fateful
words.
Strange…. They now seem like they were predicting this
very moment that I find myself in. It’s
only too bad that I didn’t notice it before. It may not have been too late. For him… for me…
But he lays before me, doused in blood that pulsates with
each agonized breath. Each breath,
numbered, slowly ticking away, sometimes spewing small droplets on his crooked,
broken glasses, shielding the eyes that stare at me in shock. Or is it betrayal?
Death could be a glorious thing. It can rewrite the course of history. It can give birth to a stronger generation, a
stronger will. Such a beautiful
thing, when the timing is right, the circumstances. But in his case, there is no
glory. There is no beauty.
There is only… wrongness.
If only I had noticed. If only I could have felt and recognized that strange premonition. Had I realized, I may have been able to stop
it…
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