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[robein.livejournal.com]

Rivulets of water slowly ran down my face, leaving a moist trail that stopped by my quivering lips. Eyelashes, damp with tears slowly opened, black smears of mascara coated the bottom of my eyes as I struggled to control myself. The bitter chill wrapped around me like a cocoon, threatening to tear the bouquet of flowers away that was held in my limp hand. I stifled a scream that clawed its way up my throat as I laid my eyes upon the mass of people who wore the traditional clothes of mourning. Faces blurred together until I couldn't distinguish the pitied looks that were thrown my way.

 

 

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