In the dark of cold winters night he walked along, his heart was heavy with the conversation he had just had. He said mean, hurtful things to the woman that he loved, that had meant everything to him. In his defense, he thought, he had said them in retaliation, for she had drawn first blood, but these words rang hollow and empty in his ears, for he knew he had wronged her. He knew that she was in pain, a pain similar to the one he had felt off and on these past several years that he had known her, had loved her. She claimed she loved him too, but only when drunk, only when her defenses were down and it confused him so. Having been drunk, and surrounded by drunks, he always believed that alcohol brought out the truth, but some truths, he supposed, were too hard to deal with in the light of day, to overwhelmed by fears.
He began to pass a church. He was more a spiritual man than religeous, but always thought fo this place as holy ground. Without thought he fell to his knees on the front steps, tears flowed from him freely as he wailed to its doors, daring not to enter. He begged any power above for understanding, abd guidance, for answers. He bent forward like a muslim in daily prayer, begging for some wisdom, insight, understanding, he begged for anything. Over time his knees grew cold against the hard marble stairs, his nose clogged and glasses overcome with tears. He rose. There would be no answers today, he realized. No answers ever for all he knew. They hurt each other and he knew not why. He only wanted to give her happiness, in any way he could. Slowly he began to sulk home, feeling the tears that still streaked his face. Perhaps he would sleep, perhaps he would have the answer by the light of day. It was longshot, one not likely to come in, but as he always belived, some hope was better than none at all. No hope only leads to the end.
