It was a dark and overcast day.

Just like that day so many years ago.

It promised rain.

The tears of Heaven.

He stood there in front of the gates.

He used to like rain.

Junior High was almost over.

The emptiness echoed the memories.

Soon his little brother would run out.

His neighbor had stood in the same position.

He didn't have to tell him.

He had wondered why the man was crying.

He wanted to tell him.

The light of the day had faded at this sight.

He needed to tell him.

He asked him why he was crying.

The playground school bell rang.

His neighbor said he had sad news.

Kids poured out of the front door.

His neighbor said God had spoken.

He searched for the familiar dark hair.

That God had decided it was time.

His little brother raced over to him.

That he was in a better place.

His little brother asked him why he looked sad.

He stared at the man.

He stared at his little brother.

He understood.

He said that he needed to know.

Earlier that day there had been a car accident.

He said that it was necessary.

His father had been in it.

He said that she had been in an accident.

There were no survivors.

He said that she's not breathing.

His father was dead.

Anzu was dead.