So far away from where you are
These miles have torn us worlds apart
And I miss you
Yeah, I miss you
So far away from where you are
Standing underneath the stars.
And I wish you were here.

He could remember how she looked in the light. An angel, wrapped in the dark auras of the city, dwarfed by human skin. Most days, when he resented her death, thinking of such things like heaven and winged creatures that seemed to have a whole lot less to worry about than him just left him emptied of hope and filled, instead, with questions. Why her? Why my angel? Don't you have enough up there in your little collection?

It was after dusk and it seemed like just another one of those nights where the gloom penetrated skin and seeped into every waking thought. Trying to find comfort in a pillow that just wouldn't hold much of anything apart from limp feathers was useless, no matter how many times he beat his frustrations into it. He sighed and rolled off the sheets, groping through the odd shadows cast by the glare of the lights outside his window to find the bathroom.

Once inside, his finger slid over the light switch and they flickered on overhead, trying to find its equilibrium. As the light shifted overhead, he buried his face in the pooling water slowly drifting through the cracks of his fingers – a makeshift sieve. The faucet switched off and he just stood there, drinking everything in for a moment before deciding sleep was an impossibility for the night and grabbing his coat for a walk.

Once underneath the stars, he began to melt into the backdrop of the dynamic labyrinth that was the city. The cabs that passed left a wake of sated air behind them and the blinking glare of the fluorescent lights fell on him like broken shades of glass. Buildings towered over his head, colossal sentinels on the night watch, rising with weary resignation. There were a few people braving the last few breaths of dying night, but not many. He felt alone and that was what he wanted – solitude.

He wondered if they ever stopped once to consider the difference between death and murder, those people that passed him by without a second glance. Between life and existence. If they ever felt anchored to the bottom of depthless mourning, feeling like they were surrounded by air and still drowning. Or how selfish time was, brushing past each loss like it was just clockwork.

Another cog in the machine; it would be replaced. He was tired of feeling like a cog in the great machine of time. He wanted meaning again.

And as he opened his eyes, he found himself standing before the gates of Ground Zero, a graveyard in the epicenter of life.

I wonder if you can still hear me from where you are.