I walk down the damp cold streets of London, my boots making the slightest squish as I take each step on the wet pavement. Flexing my fingers to ease the numbing that has settled into my hands, I stuff it into the pockets of my black, warm winter jacket. Barely any pedestrians were seen on my voyage through the streets, as the clock struck 12, and many were most likely huddled in their warm beds, sleeping on worn out dreams and conscious thoughts.

The few beings that were strolling the damp streets looked similar to my composure: lost. The lingering silence that surrounds me caused my thoughts to wonder to a specific dazzling smile that would forever be imprinted in my skull.

'Come on! Let's go to London, we'll have so much fun together. I promise we'll be back in New York by the end of break, you'll enjoy it.'

Memories are the epitome of both joy and grief; the ones I have played in my mind were none joyful. The damp streets only fulfilled my grief, as I take one more step forward. Squish.

'You seem tired. Long trip, huh? Hah we'll sightsee tomorrow. I'm going to go out and get some stuff from the market, want anything?'

Squish. I look around once more. Not even the lost are here to accompany me now; the damp London streets are now empty, with only me to comfort them. I decided to delve deeper into my memories, not time-wise, but the depth of my feelings: Rage, bewilderment, sorrow… Heartbreak. Oh, the overwhelming heartbreak.

I fight back the tears threatening to break as the memories continue to strike.

'Oh, you're coming with? Great, easier for me! First let me get my phone…'

Many would find these thoughts harmless and insignificant, but to me they make up a sequel of events, leading up to the grand finale, and ending with a large explosion.

They're like those mystery books you happen to find in the library: they give you small details which leads to the real mystery. Squish.

'So I'm thinking we should go out to lunch at-'His eyes focused at his pocket. 'oh, just a second, I have a text.'

It's also the little details that tear you up the most, because those insignificant details are the blueprints to the grand finale, and without them, the finale would have never occurred. It's like if in these mystery books, the victim hadn't taken the wrong turn in a dark alley, or hadn't found the secret jewel, the mystery would have been nonexistent, and the victim would carry on with their lives.

As I keep walking down the cold London streets, I've realized I've been walking in circles, like a lost puppy searching for its home. I stop in my tracks. The silent squish has left me, and I just stand in a middle of an empty street, looking down at my shoes. The night has engulfed me in the darkness, the moon seemed not as bright as the day before, and as what you would expect from being in a city, the stars were absent.

The only light from my view was a small streetlight in front of me, occasionally blinking, like a firefly, except this sight wasn't nearly as beautiful. Looking back down I decided to mindlessly kick a pebble in front of me, as if the pebble were my feelings and I've just encountered them, sending them across the road.

'Come on babe, there are no cars, and I think it's close to raining, let's just cross.' He laughed, 'Oh, stop being such a sissy.'

The sequel of events is at a close end. The memories continue though, like a broken record just repeating itself, when no one wants it to. I keep catching myself looking down at my shoes, finding nothing interesting to glance to. I could just go back to the rented hotel room now, but I choose not to take one more step forward, my shoes being the center of attention.

As I stand in the middle of the street, my attention is changed when a small cold drop landed on my messy blonde hair. I put out my hand for a couple seconds before it was greeted by another drop of water landing straight on my palm. Before you know it the damp cold London streets became even damper, as if London sensed my grief. Rain drops made my head soaked, and my warm black coat did not help the coldness that managed to coil its way into my nerves. I still didn't move. I didn't have the intention of moving either.

'Ugh, got another text, ha-ha why so slow Artie?'

If he didn't bring his phone. If he didn't cross the street. If he wasn't too busy talking to me. These are those tiny details that lead up to the big explosion.

'Arthur, what's wro-'

And then the car came. And then those blue eyes that were looking at me focused on the screaming horn, before those eyes became shut out from the world.

I watch the rain fall down as I muse over these chains of events. I notice how much more different this world was from yesterday, and how each day affects everything, no matter what. The break is almost over, and we would be packing up to go back to New York, but those were my thoughts yesterday, today is different.

Squish. After a few more moments of standing there motionless, these memories replaying inside of my head, I stepped forward back on my way to the hotel. I'll go back to New York, and stay strong no matter what. Things will get better for me, and I'm sure of it.

It's like what a certain blue eyed companion told me not long ago. You can't have a rainbow without a little rain.