I was asked to write someone a little story about 45 minutes ago, beings I don't plan on doing anything more with it I thought I'd let you guys look at it because IDGAF. EDIT: Word of warning: I did not proofread it, and I wish I had... EDIT 2: Well, the person I wrote this for is writing at me in all caps, so... [quote][/quote] He looked out the window; it was snowing and dark outside, it had been dark for many hours. He watched the cars below as they slowly trudged through the snow. He hardly noticed the cold of his dimly-lit apartment anymore, in the beginning he thought it would be an issue but now it was one of last things on his mind. He sat on the window sill, and looked at the lights in the city. The glass that was typically in his hand at this hour was half empty. This was his routine every night since he moved in. It wasn’t much of a move; he traveled lightly these days, and often. He was contemplating where he had to go next; he didn’t want this, but it was the way it had to be. He was beginning to worry that he had stayed in this city too long. He didn’t know why he had to do this, to go through what he was. It had to have been a set up, it had to have been planned, and his gun had been at the scene. The only thing he could do now was to disappear from the world’s eyes. Deep down he knew he could never clear himself of his charges; the evidence was too sure, even though it was fake. Even now he was beginning to accept the inevitable, there was no true escape, he could always run but he would never be free again. He looked down at the cars again, he watched as three vehicles pulled up to the building. Time was up, he had waited too long. The knocks on the door came shortly afterwards, they shouted their commands, and received no response. He had the window open now, though he still sat on the sill. The man clutched a picture in his right hand; he looked deeply into the picture, and dreamed of what the picture promised; a promise that had been broken. The door flew open, and he looked at the men who entered. He heard two shots before everything went black; he leaned into the half open window with a smile on his face. The picture of his wife fell from his hand; she was one of seven people he had been accused of killing over three months ago. Finally, it was over, he was free.