I never thought about the sheer impact of my actions until her. That woman and her wet eyes were an unrecognizable notion. A sight my thoughts could not digest. There was so much to break down in that painful expression, yet I could not discern which building block to take out first, which interpretation to glance off of. And with the intensity of it all, my nerves couldn’t come into focus. There was no reaction but unconscious tears– tears which I could not control.

And in mere seconds, she turned away.

But the pain was still there. And I found that my tears of thought transformed into something more tangible. Numb were my hands and dry were my parting lips.

But what response was more powerful. Nothing initial in my head could be fathomed.

A deep stroke of feeling within my heart.

Delving into chambers I didn’t know existed.

She walks down the alley, past the towering piles of old furniture. Something lost that she was looking for. She found the opposite in me.

Above her, clotheslines stretch across the dark space. A snowy sky that bears no graces watches her, watches me.

And a few blocks down, the city is on fire. For a moment, the sky seems to drop a gift from its silver-lined clouds.

But there is an outer façade to these snowflakes. These are snowflakes of flame– the children of fire.

Ashes.

Traveling on the wind, carrying the bad news of inferno–

–and of tears.