He lay silently in the grass staring up at the clouds above. They were gray, gray, gray, gray. Just like his eyes.

The long grass danced in the wind and played over his face. From where he was lying all he could see was the endless gray sky and the tips of the grass. Reaching up to embrace that gray. Gray and green, gray and green, gray and green… it was raining now but still he gazed unblinkingly up into the darkening sky. As the first cold drop touched his face he marveled at the liquid feeling of rain dancing on his skin. A drop fell onto his warm lips and green eyes fluttered close.

~

He was surrounded by soft grass on all sides, swaying slightly in the faint breeze. The breeze caressed his face as he waited, waited, waited. There was nothing but the wind and the grass and the never-ending sky.

~

The rain was harder now, pounding, pounding onto his smooth skin. His thin shirt clung wetly to his thin frame and he was shivering in the wind. But it was calling him, howling, howling that he must come. He closed his eyes and gave into the wind.

~

The grass was still now, and yet he was still waiting, waiting, waiting. There. Soft footfalls flattening the green grass. He waited. The soft sound stopped and he opened his eyes, only for the world to be inverted. It was green, so green, green, green. And the gray longed to embrace the green.

~

He was safe, the wind warm and light. He padded through the grass, not knowing where he was headed, only that he must walk, walk, walk. There. There was the source of the gray, and the tears, and the wind. Slowly, slowly, slowly he reached out…and fell into the sky.

~

Somewhere, sitting on cold gray stone, a boy slept. Somewhere, that boy's eyes opened. He stared around the grounds, lost, lost, lost. There. Down by the lake, someone was drowning, drowning, drowning…

~

The wind was howling again, tearing, tearing, tearing. The wind was teasing him again, with soft, soft footfalls, and cold, cold caresses. He wouldn't give in this time, no, no, no. the wind wouldn't win again. The green wouldn't reach for the gray, gray, gray…the silver rain touched his lips, drowning, drowning, drowning. The wind sighed, calling him, calling him, calling him. I won't come, I won't. He opened his eyes…and fell into the sky.

He could feel the wind, could feel the rain, could feel his cold shirt, but he couldn't hear it.

Nor could he see it, only him.