Chance

He lay against her sleeping bones, feeling the dirt caress his naked head. In his hand he could feel the small glass resting against his fingers, it smooth exterior judgement to what lay beneath. His escape. In his minds ecstasy of grief he saw her, golden air dancing along with the wind. The wind that even now embraced him, unlike her. He rose, coming to sit, facing the stone with the words that would never fade. Just like his love for her. A hand came across the stone and he felt the imprint that had long been etched into his mind. He swept his breath into his mind and brushed the bottle against his lips. It was empty. Confused he remained still, not knowing how this nothingness slipt down his throat. His escape had lain in there before.
“Excuse me.” He turned with a start, unsure, to find a woman standing before him. Brown hair flew across her face, shadows throwing themselves against her in the dark. “I’m lost, could you help me?”
In honest actions he rose, and a smile placed itself across his face. A smile long forgotten.
“Maybe some things aren’t meant to happen.” And the bottle lay to collect dirt on the ground.