Cool autumn wind blows through your hair and dries the hot tears on your pale cheeks. You struggle with walking straight, your feet feel like giving up. Hands are formed in fists pressed against the sides of your body, so no one can see you shaking.
Your heart feels wrong and hollow whilst eyes are rimmed red. As you walk down the crowded streets, you pull the rough fabric of your gray jacket closer, your body slowly cools down, since you've been stumbling around the city for hours trying to get everything out of your mind, which feels like exploding. However it doesn't work, it never does.
Hot and heavy tears keep running down your cheeks, when you first started crying you bothered wiping them away but now you just let them fall, you just don't care anymore.
Your sight gets blurred and your movements get heavier with every step you take. The shaking is overwhelming and your breath comes hard and fast.
Your knees give in as you fall down on the freezing cold street. The coolness of the ground creeps through your dark jeans and up your body right into the heart, which already feels way to cold.
You don't have enough strength to stand up again, so you just crawl to the nearest protect. You curl yourself against a fence with feet pulled to your aching chest. Your knees feel like burning from the fall, just seconds ago, but you don't care.
The air around you starts getting colder, but you don't seem to notice, but to be honest you wouldn't even care dying right now, curled up against a fence in the north-east of London. The tears eventually quit falling, but your heart's still suffering and it beats heavy and loud against your chest. You start to observe your surroundings, it's too dark to see much but about ten feet away from you there is a rather old door with 221B written on it.