In an instant, you dash toward the window and jump into the alleyway below. The one-story drop stings your ankles, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins relieves some of the pain.​

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You turn back toward the window, where you hear Xavier shriek hysterically. Guilt begins to wash over you, but then you remember that they may be coming for you. You sprint back out the alleyway, tearing through Old Square to Street #6 as you seek refuge at home.

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At home that evening, you remain glued to the window. You find yourself scanning every passerby, wishing that one will turn-out to be Matlock or Xavier.

 

Deep down, you know they're gone, but you hold out the slightest bit of hope for their return. You want to see their smiles. To apologize for having to leave them. To apologize for their deaths. To apologize for so many things.

​

Turning away from the window and the Moon suspended high in the sky, you exhale a deep sigh as you walk toward your desk. Rifling through its top drawer, you find an ancient zippo lighter your dad once gave you. T

 

With the lighter in-hand, you flick open its top, in-effect igniting its modest flame. Tossing the lighter into your trash can, you stare at the flames as they gradually sear your purple Colors into ash.