He again watched his film, watching the film of my deceased friend's lives. He wipe his glasses from the teardrops that fall upon them, as he looks in longing for that time once more.
Angel, Mimi, Roger, Collins, Joanne, Maureen, and even Benny, all in sucession. All dying by the deadly disease or by a freak accident.
The thirty-seven film maker stared, alone in his empty house, wondering, where did the time go?
A tear slid down his cheek as he couldn't help but say to himself about his pathetic life,
"I'm forever stuck in the past, and it all started with that fateful Halloween."
'