Disclaimer: Not Mine.

He was trying.

The pouring rain beat down on the thin man, soaking his black suit and plastering his auburn hair to his face.

He was trying to run.

The deep puddles were slowing him down, cold air whipping sheets of rain into his shivering form.

He was trying to run back.

Terrified amber eyes searched in the darkness, for something, anything familiar. It was all wrong here.

He was trying to run back to Gene.

fin.