Drabble 02: Flash
The silhouetted figures of man and woman were kneeling over a limp body. Their eyes were glued to the pathetic frame of Gregory House, contrasted against the cement, but the man had fallen to his knees, crying his sorrow with the rain.
Wilson grasped House's jacket, sobbing. It didn't look like blood pooling around his knees had come from House's head, nor did it seem that there was no pulse below his rain-soaked fingertips.
James took the note that bled in shades of black ink and put it into House's coat. To this day, he doesn't remember what it said.
Fin.
