The skies are clear with a crisp bite in the slight breeze whispering of a Fall that is well on its way. The lake was happily acting as a mirror to reflect this and the event taking place on the banks-side near a large rock. Moss was over taking its existence resting under a large Weeping Willow feeding the light to dark in shadow enriching the shades of green leaching onto the rock.

"Jules, are you sure you want to do this?"

She hated when he called her that, it was Juliet. Making a slight nod, "He always wanted to fly."

Juliet's father stood there only for a moment towering over her noticing just how his youngest daughter had a strong sense of determination. How much she loved that Sea-Foam green stuffed bear. Before it had become a pile of dust it had been worn out and falling apart from the seams, loved. The bear though it had no name was her sidekick. Juliet had a compulsion of rubbing its soft animal-like fur between her fingers and thumb always with her right hand while her left thumb was caught up, lost in her mouth, creating bald spots on the fur soon after a week of bringing it home from the toy store. If you found Juliet there would be that bear.

"Here." He said as he went to grab for the small red cotton cloth patterns taking form of daisies and teardrop-like shapes in white, it was tied in a knot at the top and held something in the bottom shaped like a small potato pliable and soft, dust from a cremation. Juliet had been trying to tie that cloth to a soft off-pink kite resting on the rocky ground for the past 5 minutes.

"No I don't need help, not from you." Her words came out viciously as she tugged the cloth and kite away from him. He understood her reaction and took a small step backward. After a couple turnings of the cloth and more then ten different places on the kite's wooden frame she had fastened it on well enough. A smile shined but then went away as quick as it had come with her thoughts focusing back on what she had just finished tying down. Stepping out of the shaded tree area with the slightly heavier kite in hand the sun washing warmth around her she took a running start and released the kite from her hands it taking fight. Instantly she stopped and began to release some of the string from the small wooden handle in her even smaller and delicate hands gripping tightly to it. Looking up the pink kite swaying from side to side enjoying its freedom by teasing the sun going to and from it, at times blinding the girl for but a moment while staring up.

Abruptly a heavy gust of wind passes between father and daughter. When it went higher the kite had loosened its self, unraveling all of the string attaching its self to Juliet's hands through the handle. Not wanting to loose the soft off-pink kite quickly she grabs for the string but it only continues to go higher the string is now starting to glide through her hands then fingertips. Rope of sharp teeth take small layers of her skin off with it into the beaming blue sky. It was gone. Juliet now with both knees on the ground placed her face in her hands and began to fill them with worm tears a sulfur-like smell infesting her senses with every inhale she took through her nose.

"I'm sorry" Her father said now at her side rubbing her back. Juliet looked up at him her face red from blood and emotion her eyes were already swollen, "You ran him over, it's all your fault!" She pounded at her fathers chest with her small fisted hands ignoring all the physical pain she was causing herself. "...I never intentionally ran him over." He said this calmly as Juliet  began to interrupted what he was going to say next, "He was only looking for a place to hibernate!" Her voice had reached to a high-pitched cry.
"Honey, under a tires of our truck?"

The sky was like any other in this particular area. Stars being swallowed, out shined by streetlights and of cars with luminous headlights looking to be the eyes of plastic and rubber beasts. All zooming, this way and that around each other to reach one goal, the metropolis city of Chicago. Never mind that with a closer observation to the skies one would see the deepening clouds with their layers of dark blues and blacks, bringing in rain. Not making the air crisp and light but heavy with humidity.

Ignoring all of this out of habit as well as having a preoccupation on his hands was a younger man with his back leaning against a smaller brick building. Giving a blank stare to the world around him. The streets were clear of pedestrians, only filled with the screeching cars.

"Pick up already! It really doesn't take much to grab the phone, press the green button to find yourself in the wild world of comunication." The last word was intensified as if making some kind of point to someone. But nothing was heard from a human on the other end, only that of an answering machine. He hung up promptly only to quickly reopen the cell, pressing heavily on the "send" button and brought the phone close to the side of his face once again. The machine answered for a second time. Staring at the small device with its semi-bright screen and glowing touchpad, he pressed "end". In that moment just long enough for the screen to go to its resting point leaving him with a dark, black screen. His whole persona changed quickly the emotions in his face went from one of a calm void to seething. In an act to blame someone, anything, he viciously slammed the flip phone shut. The device whimpered back at him with a small sound of crackling plastic. The phone was tossed to the street, plastic meeting rubber, crunch, having no use now.

"Relax. Relax, Patrick. Try taking a breath..." He said this to himself with boasting sarcasm while reaching for a cigarette box from within his dark jean coat pocket, the full box was already worn out with its top missing and with the identification of the brand not in a readable state. Snagging one with his long skinny fingers he immediately placed the cigarette's funnel between his full but pale lips. At the same time as his other hand was putting away the small box it was now in reach of the obvious lighter. Feeling his finger tips upon the cheep plastic tool he pulled it out once again, an invitation to meet the outside world. Clear blue with having little to no fluid moving from inside. Motioning the lighter near the end of the cylinder of white Patrick gestured his thumb to start the mini torching, but it brought nothing, no light. With the second attempt of a small flick the cigarette was set alight.

Patrick took part in one inhale and removed it from his mouth, with the cigarette now between two of his left handed fingers it was brought to his side. He stood there, green eyes only deepening with unfulfillment and doubt. Still holding the first intake, 3-4-5 seconds he finely breathed out, releasing what he could of the poison he had just held in, into his body of many life giving and supporting organs. Leaning there he felt a warm wet drop on his forehead snapping him from his deep thoughts Patrick looked up, seeing the sky twisting. Another drop, and another. He took in one more deep breath, that of clean air and closed his eyes, leaving his face aligned upward allowing the rain to fall to his face and run down his long neck. The rain picked up, falling more rapidly, droplets holding more weight and becoming larger in size. Forgotten, the cigarette fell to the cracked cement sidewalk, put out and washed to the side, swirling the tobacco absorbing the fluid the presence of a fait yellow stain already appearing on the white paper, downward into the drain it plunged.