Take my sins and wash them away...

As all things, even I have no choice but to move forward. Despite knowing that the future holds no redemption, and that I will surely have to accept defeat, I march ahead - as stubbornly and lightly as ever. Life tests us all, in my case things just seem to bundle up and hit me as an asteroid, not as lonesome rocks. Fight or flight, fail or fall, I shall not falter. The smile on my face will not wither, my eyes will not cry, my mouth shall not tremble, and my soul shall not die. I will crumble, then I will move on. As simple and as easy as that.

That was the only time, as he stood there, looking at that strange rubbish, feeling the wind coming across those empty fields, that he started to imagine a world where you still existed, because this was where it all started after all. He was thinking about the trash and rubble, the flapping plastic in the branches, the shore-line of odd stuff caught along the fencing, and he half-closed his eyes and imagined this was the spot where everything he'd ever lost since his childhood had washed up, and he was now standing here in front of it, and if he waited long enough, a tiny figure would appear on the horizon across the field, and gradually get larger until he'd see it was you, and he'd wave, maybe even call. The fantasy never got beyond that - he didn't let it - and though tears rolled down his face, he wasn't sobbing or out of control. He just waited a bit, then turned back to the car, to drive off to wherever it was he was supposed to be.