It was quiet.
The wind was brisk and chilled, whipping whatever it could briefly grasp wildly about. The gray, spindly trees seemed so fragile as to break with the slightest of touches. They winded this way and that, curving and twisting and wavering, shuddering just so slightly. The sky was black. Not a star shone, not the slightest ripple of a cloud could be seen. The ground was bare, frosted asphalt. Leaves were scattered here and there.
She was going to die.
Rin looked up, blond hair shifting stiffly. Her scarf was old, encrusted with dirt. Her ratty old coat was stained. Her jeans (could you even call them such anymore?) were ripped and ragged.
"Such is life."
The words rolled and dripped off of her tongue like honey. Viscous and sweet, yet oh so bitter. Her ripened lips curved into a delicate smile.
"Yes, such is life."
There was nothing in her stomach. There hadn't been anything for weeks, perhaps. She hadn't bothered counting. It hurt, a constant, dull ache, but she had grown almost used to it. Hunger. It had become a fact of life, after she had died.
Perhaps Rin would get to join her once again?
It had been a bitter winter night. Rather like the one she stood in, but longer ago. Back then, her clothes were freshly washed and nice. Her hair was thick and full. Her eyes were bright and wide, so her love said. That was back before Miki died.
Funny, how quickly a car can be when you're not paying attention? How suddenly death can come knocking at your door?
It had stolen away her love, had enveloped her in blankets and stolen her away into the night. And Rin had never been the same. She beckoned death closer, tempted it to her, time and time again, so that she could once again glimpse (and perhaps reach out and touch) her beloved.
So, yes, it was only a matter of time.
And she so wished it wouldn't be too long.