I hope the leaving is joyful; and I hope never to return
Blood slowly trickles down his face.
Nothing to be heard, except for the occasional ragged breath.
Tilts his head and glances up at the sky.
Hadn't noticed until now how dark it had gotten. Wonders when that happened.
Spots a shooting star and he manages to huff out a small, wry, laugh.
Looks down at his hands, notes the tiny red droplets all across the back of each knuckle.
His eyes flutter closed. Blinks them open again, hands balling into fists.
Draws in another hitched breath.
Eyes fall shut.
Fists unclench.
And then there's nothing but silence.
Wish granted.
I hope the leaving is joyful; and I hope never to return
- Frida Kahlo
Nothing to be heard, except for the occasional ragged breath.
Tilts his head and glances up at the sky.
Hadn't noticed until now how dark it had gotten. Wonders when that happened.
Spots a shooting star and he manages to huff out a small, wry, laugh.
Looks down at his hands, notes the tiny red droplets all across the back of each knuckle.
His eyes flutter closed. Blinks them open again, hands balling into fists.
Draws in another hitched breath.
Eyes fall shut.
Fists unclench.
And then there's nothing but silence.
Wish granted.
I hope the leaving is joyful; and I hope never to return
- Frida Kahlo