He opened his mouth, the edges trembling a little, as the cold gust invaded his lungs. His worn eyes swallowed the city lights like a void, as if there was a deep hunger in them that could not be satisfied. In reality though, he had grown much too tired of this place. It seemed like the world was mocking him, in a way that he did not understand, as it kept replaying the same old landscape night after night. He gazed up at the sky, finding no relief of the tears that threatened to fall. Somehow, he found comfort in the cold embrace of the dark. It felt familiar, almost sweet even. But who was he to talk about familiarity, if he never had a family to begin with? This train of thought traveled down an old and forlorn path in his mind, a path that led to a place he never truly considered home, Winchester. He closed his eyes. His memories painted a picture of a somber, monotonous house in his hometown. Oh, what a fool he would be to deny that he still longed for the old times. Maybe one day he will return there, just to trace over the scars again and recall some bittersweet days.