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Like a ballerina, she dances towards him. Her face is barren without a smile, without happiness, without signs of love. Instead, it is filled with blood, all dried up, and scars. The vision of her stutters him, for he cannot remember the last time he saw her. But he even knows she did not look like this during that moment. Fear starts to build in his inside, and his eyes begin to form pools of water.

“For heaven’s sake,” he begins, “please don’t make me suffer…”

But the woman still moves, faster and faster, with eyes fixed ahead, but he... he cannot move, for it feels as if a wall is blocking his feet, and another one is crushing him, turning his breathing heavier. “Stop it!” he says. And she does not stop, instead she moves serenely to his back and disappears. The ghost of her now lost in sight, and the man is lying on the street, not in death, but in guilt.