The sky hung close to the ground, the wind carried the smell of decay and the days became shorter and shorter.

The dawn came quickly, like a match flare in the dark, surprising Michael as he continued to wait for her to come home.

He dug his hands into the earth and pulled them out again, feeling the cold dampness sift through his fingers and thinking that he was finally free.

He stumbled down the cobble-stoned street, the sound of his singing bouncing off the ancient walls.

They made love like it was the last time the sun would set.

"For the last time," he stammered, "I wasn't there and I don't know who killed her."

Jim woke up with the vague and gnawing feeling that he had forgotten something—not work or home related—something important from years before.