He walked alone, amidst the snow. His grimy bare feet dragged behind, tinged with the sorrow of a deep blue. It was more then just despair now; it was hatred of what had become of his life. It could have been different. The future could have flourished, beckoning to him with open arms. His life could have had meaning, but his hope had been crushed long ago.
He attempted to stare into the window of his past home. At the story he could’ve portrayed. But his pages were blank. None cared of his beginning, or ending. He was met only by a disheveled reflection, as he peered into the window. A greasy unwashed beard hid his face from the world, and a porous hat shielded the rest. Year old paper-thin clothes hid the tarnished skin beneath, caused by years of hatred, regret, sorrow, and resentment. Resentment to the world that turned its back on him, resentment for the one mistake the cost him his job, his house, and his life, and resentment for himself. Again he tried to look through the window, at the life taken so easily from his grasp. Inside was a family, huddled together in a soft blanket, drinking steaming hot chocolate next to a blazing hearth. Flames licked the top of the fireplace, dancing with jubilation. Frozen with grief, he continued to stand, petrified by the complete and utter realization that his life would never change. As his unmovable bare feet collapsed under him, he fell towards his own blanket, one without color. His life story came to his mind, but it was not a tale worth recalling. His crust-covered eyes lay open, as he turned on his back. He wanted his last memory, unlike so many others to be a radiant one. Flecks of white fell against a blackened sky. His mind and eyes laid a daze, as the last of his breathe floated from a lifeless body.
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