It was a chilly day out.

Amid the quiet cold of the early morning, a lone man walked down an empty backstreet. His walk was unhurried and deliberate, and his face was devoid of emotion. His eyes were cold and apathetic. He did not speak as he wandered the sleepy storefronts, but offered a dry, glazed-over smile to the rare few he passed. A soft melody thrummed somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, and the edges of his mouth twitched, just a little.

(If I go back into this alley,

Maybe she will appear and surprise me again...)

-

It was a chilly day out.

You rubbed your forearms, stifling a yawn as you walked to the window. The city outside was still in the dreamy haze of early morning—pavements deserted, buildings not yet bustling. Gazing out a little more, you decided that you liked it in the morning. It was still quiet now, and one could wander the streets freely without drowning in the crowds that were apt to roam the city during the day.

The sun began to filter through the clouds and then the curtains, its light rays gentle and warming.

A soft smile spread across your face as you watched the sunlight work its magic. Like some amoeboid creature, it spread slowly into the city, enveloping buildings and streets with a warm glow.

A flash of movement on the pavements caught your attention; a man wearing a dark trench coat appeared and turned to head down the street. His dark attire almost contradicted the graceful manner in which he walked, in a way, you remarked to yourself, not unlike that of an accidentally earthbound angel. But it was neither his smooth stride nor his dark clothes that drew you in the most; it was his silent, brooding demeanor. He did not falter in his step, but kept his blank eyes ahead. Always ahead.

(He looked almost dead, you thought.

Almost as if he had lost something and was trying to get it back.)