Mac slowly walked up to the fence that enclosed Ground Zero. He looked down into the crater where the two towers of The World Trade Center once stood; an achievement of hope that had soared into the Manhattan skyline for almost thirty years.
A sight that had been taken for granted by most New Yorkers until on a warm, autumn morning two planes crashed into them and brought them down in less than an hour.
The brunette shook his head to try and rid it of the images of that fateful day. It never did him any good to dwell on what he had lost that day because it would never bring his wife back.
Claire.
She had been the most precious gift he had ever been given. She had been the other half of his soul, and hate had taken her from him.
He rested a hand on the fence to steady himself as the pain of that loss washed over him once again. Every year that passed it seemed to lessen as he learned to live again…. and even love again.
It was a few days before the sixth anniversary of that fateful day, and like every anniversary before it he came and left a flower to show that he still remembered.
He tossed the rose he had in his other hand into the abyss and softly said, "Farewell, sweetheart. I'll see you next year."
He then turned and walked away heading back into the city.