It's like a sudden collision. The embrace, the power thuds. Its like when this thing occur, suddenly you are left on the thin line. You start asking questions. How did you end up there? You whispered, ''What happened...?" A while before, you were just sitting in the carriage. Next, you find yourself dripping with terror. You don't know what's happening. Because all of it goes in a blur. You breathe deep but its like helium, threatening you awful imbecile words if you dare to speak. It's like a holocaust of the empire. The state burning down its shambolic tears. How the crude remnants destroy virtually inclined pictures. Maybe it is too wishful thinking. Its funny how I've never thought of you, yet to wonder if you could be searching for me back at yours. How I wish, to shout back at Kiera, get out of the precinct. Because desperation don't look pretty on you, 40-year-old. It definitely don't suit you well.

Yours.