Morning sunlight trickles through the open window, traveling on specks of dust.
It washes it all away.
He stumbles down the sidewalk, alone. And his heart slips out of his chest and slides onto the concrete.
There it imprints itself, growing outwards, its mottled colors sloughing over the sides of its shape.
The pavement cracks, noiselessly cleaving one side from the other.
A hole tears open.
His shadow, standing tall, stumbles, loses its footing, and slips in.
Eyes dart frantically, side to side. To side.
No one is there.
His street is empty.
He sees no one else. And no one else sees.
Standing still, but now unsteady.
And the edge creeps closer.
As he peers down, he sees the crack widening.
And he sees The Nothing.
And it's waiting.
And it's smiling.
And it's truth.
It tugs at him.
The clouds move in front of the sun, and he feels awash in grayness.
It's cold. But he's sweating.
Tossing side to side, his eyes snap open.
Morning sunlight trickles through the windows. Gently, it washes it all away.
But outside, the sidewalk splits wide open.