I hear footsteps slapping against the pavement. Vibrations cover my body. Wind is whipping itself around my face and through my hair like wild fingers. My breath is coming in gasps. I cannot stop.

She is standing in the middle of the dark street. Lights are approaching quickly; too quickly. By the time the director of the lights can see her, it will be too late.

She glances up, and I am shocked and crushed to see grim determination apparent on her face. I know she can hear my scream, but still, she doesn’t budge. Why is she doing this? Does she truly want her life to end in this way? Does she want the lights to take her away from everyone who has ever loved her? From me?

The lights are almost upon her.

I feel wetness running down my face and into my mouth. The salty taste of tears brings my nerves to life, tingling and cringing from what I know is to come.

I cannot make it; she will be obliterated by the lights.

She turns toward the lights, spreading out her arms in a way of embracing what she believes is her fate.

The lights are upon her now.

I cry out as the lights embrace her, taking her soul to where I cannot follow. Her body lies on the pavement, mangled and lifeless.

The lights took her away.

Death. . .

Grief. . .

Pain. . .

Loneliness. . .

I am alone.