The snow lightly fell on the balcony, creating drifts of snow around the
windowpane. The crisp air filled the apartment and with every breath took,
fog rolled over his sheet of paper. He bit his cracked lips as he read the
last words over.
"Come what may..." he sighed sadly before dropping the paper to the stack of yellowed sheets like it. He stood and walked over to the window. The falling snow created the picturesque Christmas he used to know. One before lost love and loneliness so deep it penetrated the very depth of his being, his soul. He ached with every movement and pained with each moment until he was numb to it all.
"Sing out this song," he sang wistfully, "I'll be there by your side..." The laughter of a girl on the street rang out.
"Dammit!" he yelled and threw a half-full bottle of absinthe at the window. The bottle smashed and he stared at the dripping green liquid that seeped into the floorboards.
"Dammit," he whispered as he watched the absinthe drip beneath the floor. "Why can't you be here?"
There was no point. Why bother try to play this charade that someday his life would return to normal? There was no normal, there was Satine, she was his life. What was he left with now then?
He flung open the window and approached the edge. Over the baluster, the drop was straight onto the pavement below. A small alley where it was doubtful he would be found for weeks. He closed his eyes and felt the air sweep around him.
He could feel a soft hand fall to his arm. "Christian... no..." he heard her whisper faintly. His eyes flew open to find her, to be with her, to never let her go, and was greeted by the empty balcony. He sank to the floor and sat on the snow, his back against the ledge. Tears fell down his cheeks as he cried out of sheer frustration and humility with himself.
"I can't do this... I just can't..." he said over and over to himself. "I can't keep living this life."
A soft voice echoed below his balcony. "Come what may..."
He sprang to his feet and looked down at the alley. A young girl sat upon the cold wet steps below. "Come what may..."
He spun around and thundered down the stairs. He ran out to the alley to see the girl still sitting mournfully upon the cold cement. She looked up, startled.
"Where... where did you hear that before?" he breathed.
She looked at him strangely for a moment before biting her lip while she pondered. "I'm not sure... perhaps in a dream... but I can't remember ever hearing it... why do you ask?"
"Oh..." he smiled bitterly, softly. "It reminds me of an old friend... one who knew exactly how to come when needed."
"Come what may..." he sighed sadly before dropping the paper to the stack of yellowed sheets like it. He stood and walked over to the window. The falling snow created the picturesque Christmas he used to know. One before lost love and loneliness so deep it penetrated the very depth of his being, his soul. He ached with every movement and pained with each moment until he was numb to it all.
"Sing out this song," he sang wistfully, "I'll be there by your side..." The laughter of a girl on the street rang out.
"Dammit!" he yelled and threw a half-full bottle of absinthe at the window. The bottle smashed and he stared at the dripping green liquid that seeped into the floorboards.
"Dammit," he whispered as he watched the absinthe drip beneath the floor. "Why can't you be here?"
There was no point. Why bother try to play this charade that someday his life would return to normal? There was no normal, there was Satine, she was his life. What was he left with now then?
He flung open the window and approached the edge. Over the baluster, the drop was straight onto the pavement below. A small alley where it was doubtful he would be found for weeks. He closed his eyes and felt the air sweep around him.
He could feel a soft hand fall to his arm. "Christian... no..." he heard her whisper faintly. His eyes flew open to find her, to be with her, to never let her go, and was greeted by the empty balcony. He sank to the floor and sat on the snow, his back against the ledge. Tears fell down his cheeks as he cried out of sheer frustration and humility with himself.
"I can't do this... I just can't..." he said over and over to himself. "I can't keep living this life."
A soft voice echoed below his balcony. "Come what may..."
He sprang to his feet and looked down at the alley. A young girl sat upon the cold wet steps below. "Come what may..."
He spun around and thundered down the stairs. He ran out to the alley to see the girl still sitting mournfully upon the cold cement. She looked up, startled.
"Where... where did you hear that before?" he breathed.
She looked at him strangely for a moment before biting her lip while she pondered. "I'm not sure... perhaps in a dream... but I can't remember ever hearing it... why do you ask?"
"Oh..." he smiled bitterly, softly. "It reminds me of an old friend... one who knew exactly how to come when needed."