There's an old man sitting on a bench full of graffiti. One of the words was "Always". The old man lifts his wrinkly hand up slowly and places his fingers gracefully on top of the word. His eyes relax and he drifts off into the past with a smooth smirk slithering its way onto his face.

When he was younger he would write poems and letter to his future wife. In those letters he'd excitedly explain their future together and how they'd live happily ever after. The poems would be written with no rules, just as his future soon would be. He would write for hours on end, telling stories of adventure and world travel. Then one day, he collected his favorite ones and burnt them to spread with the ashes of his gone wife. That day he vowed never to marry again, and he never did. He however took up the habit of drinking Fire Water and smoking to calm his hysteria. But soon after, he realized that didn't help. He grabbed up old pictures and sobbed with passion and longing for his soul mate. He put those photos away and went to the bus stop and fell asleep. Waiting to be taken to a new place, a place full of happiness. The train came and whisked him of into the light, to never be seen again.